What's My Problem?

I remember a comment I left on a friend's blog about someone's inability to write on a daily basis. The tone of my comment was snarky. I called out the person she wrote about (maybe it was someone she quoted from her writing class, I can't remember) for his or her problem. It was something of the nature, "If they can't come up with something to write, are they capable of talking or thinking?" It wasn't that dramatic, but you get the gist.

Fast forward to June, 2009.

What goes around, comes around.

Here I am. Staring wide-eyed at a laundry list of restaurants and beautiful places I've been to over the past few months. I. Got. Nothing. My mind is a blank card. The cover is packed with the names and memories of all these spots, but the inside? White on white. And I'm losing readers by the day, I can feel it.

Might my traffic increase if I was posting everyday? Sure, probably. Maybe I'm too much of a perfectionist, but I can't bring myself to sacrifice quality for quantity, and unlike many other blogs, I don't want to be an aggregator of junk.

I can't recall feeling so verbally paralyzed before. I am sitting in the library at NYAC hoping to be inspired by the 10-foot shelves of rusty books surrounding me. Maybe some of you go through this from time to time? What cures it? I'm thinking a clean slate. I have dinner with FunStar at August tonight. I haven't seen her in months and I'm very excited. Maybe I'll attack our dinner tomorrow so I don't feel bogged down by months and months of eating I have yet to write about. Lion was cute enough to set up dinner a few months ago for him, myself and a loyal blog reader, his co-worker, and the poor girl must be wondering, "Where in the hell is the post about our dinner?" Mea culpa. How do professional food critics do it?

I worry I've done permanent damage to my writing process by being on Twitter. Instead of thinking in detailed prose, I am now thinking in 140-word bulletpoints, also known as Twitte-rrhea. I need to tear away and reground myself. Get Mona's Apple up and running again. This weekend promises to be a relaxing one so I'm writing my vows now:

I, Mona, take my blog, for my lawful writing space, to have and to mold more frequently, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part. I solemnly swear to re-devote myself to Mona's Apple. I'm not going anywhere until I'm satisfied with my progress. 48 hours of intense writing.

Please, hold me to it, folks. I do, after all, want to be known and remembered as a writer, not a Twitterer.