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THERE WAS A TIME when I wrote, and I wrote often.

During that time, I kept a blog where I would post my short prose and poetry, but mostly, I would post observations on life and faith and all things mundane. The posts would start out about one thing, wander off tangentially, then at the end, refer back to the beginning.

I stopped writing because I stopped posting. And I stopped posting because of an obstacle in the publishing industry. Publications rarely accept work that has been “previously published” elsewhere. And despite the fact that I had a maximum audience of say, twenty people, the industry still insisted that the work posted to my blog would be considered previously published.

I became concerned. I removed all the content, save for a few pieces; locked down the blog and removed it from search engines. I determined not to post my writings any longer, to save them and send them for actual publication.

What ultimately happened is that I stopped writing.

Sure, from time to time I would tap out a few paragraphs in a story I was working on, but nobody would ever see it.

And then I began to feel dumb. Dumb and distanced from God. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but the writing had helped sharpen my mind. And the pieces that I wrote about faith and life—writing them was like a form of meditation. God’s word had never left, but I had stopped my observations of it in the minutiae of daily life.

A few months ago, my friend Ivan recommended I read some G. K. Chesterton. He suggested a book called Tremendous Trifles, so I picked it up. I never really got into it—Chesterton’s writing style was a bit too much for me—but I appreciated the idea behind the work. Chesterton had a profound respect for the practice of observation and dissection of minutiae. This resonated with me. It reminded me of my own work in hiatus.

My friend also has an interest in audiobooks, which I, too, share. In fact, my interest in audiobooks extends beyond merely listening to them, but also in recording them. I have always enjoyed reading aloud and have, in fact, recorded an audiobook version of a short story I wrote many years ago. It was an industry I gave serious consideration into entering.

Recently I have begun to recognize the detriment of my lack of writing, my lack of reading. And recently I have been encouraged to return to it.

All of this has made me think back to my blog; my short prose and poetry; my observations of life and faith and all things mundane. What if I were to reinstate the blog? Say, “Damned to the industry expectations of previously published work!”* and do it simply because it must be done. Because it must be said, must be read, and now, perhaps… must be heard.

And if you would join me, I would be tremendously honored.

*(Within reason; some manuscripts do require proper publishing.)

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