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I don’t write like I used to.

This whole blog is based around writing. That’s why I called it Wild Pennings. When I created the premise for this blog, I knew that if my interest in writing ever changed, then this title would conveniently also fit for a book blog where I wouldn’t post so much about writing skills, tips, and advice, but took aim at book reviews and recommendations. I’m glad I did that at the beginning. It’s given me, mentally, more flexibility for what type of content I want to post. But when it comes to the writing part of my original premise, I’ve petered out. Again, I don’t write like I used to.

Fiction and novellas and purely imagined stories used to be my obsession. I wanted to write a novel. I’ve written a couple. And I still love playing with my original stories, but I’m not the avid novelist I used to be. For a few months now I have been struggling with the paradox of a fiction writer who almost never writes fiction but still blogs about it. That sounds so strange to me. And I’ve been at a standstill, because I started all of my blogs based on my love for creative fiction writing. How can I write about something I don’t actively participate in anymore? At least in my mind, I have never truly thought myself experienced enough to provide quality writing advice, but now that I don’t write fiction as often or in the same way that I used to, I don’t want to suffer self-inflicted hypocrisy every time I publish a blog post.

Another observation: I no longer write the way I used to because I’ve changed. I have changed so much over the years. My interest in creative fiction writing transformed into an obsession at the beginning of middle school, and the next year I started a blog to share my writing. Now, I have explored much more of the writing field than I knew when I was thirteen. I have learned the rules and broken the rules. I’ve written my own rules. I’ve toyed with words and spilled my soul and now I know what matters to me when I write. My love for writing hasn’t changed, but my direction has. Creative fiction will always have a special place in my heart; it was my first love and my marital vow to writing. But this change of direction—is this okay? How do I begin to share this thing in my head? This idea, these words, these dreams?