This blog has been so neglected that I had forgotten my WordPress password and had to create another one. How does one keep track of all the ever changing passwords? I started a list on my Notepad app on my phone, but geez, then I was fretting about losing my phone. So, I now have a password to enter my phone. But, I gotta remember that now. Pretty soon we’ll need passwords to open the fridge. Actually, that might not be a bad idea. . .
Once into my blog page, I’d forgotten how to get to my Dashboard to start a new post. Feeling some apprehension about even attempting a post, Wanda shows up, my inner critic witch. Dang, I hate it when she appears. She whispers to me in her crackling, old hag of a voice,
“You are not even supposed to be here. You left long ago. No one is left here to even read your words. You betrayed your readers enticing them to follow you and then, you take off. What a cruel joke.”
She is right. I despise her when she is right. Why do I even listen to her? What could I possibly even say that would bring readers back to me? I give her that look. You know the one, the one that a wolf gives when you are the last piece of meat.
She’s rolling her eyeballs now. . .
Feeling the pressure of choosing a topic for this debut return, she then leans over and breathes into my ear:
“I don’t even think they’ve missed you.”
Wicked, wicked, wicked.
I can handle a line or two from her, but when the words are sharp and grind my soul, I whip out my sword.
“BEWARE, Wicked Wanda Witch!!! What do you think NOW?” I slay the air a bit to show her my strength.
She is scared. You should see her. Behind that fake barfing, I know she’s trembling.
I will show her she is wrong. I do deserve to be here. There are people who will listen to my words and open their hearts to me, even if I have strayed (it might just be my mother and my sister). I’m going to change things up. Find a focus. Hone in on my voice. I won’t know what I have to say until I say it, but when I do, I promise you, I will say it in a way that you will understand. And it will be real.
Oh, and by the way, I have the secret password.
“I am a writer.”
That’s all I need.