I have been so much better in the past about keeping a regular blog schedule. At least two posts a week, like clockwork.
But here I am, on the brink of a new semester, and it has been almost a month since I last wrote for A Very Lucky Girl.
I haven't stopped writing. I still journal regularly. I have written and rewritten essays for the Fulbright application. I write emails daily. I still find myself when I arrange words into coherent sentences, art in strings of black and white.
I started to blog about my Florida trip and began constructing a back to school post in my head.
But neither one seemed to grow me as a writer. I don't see the point of A Very Lucky Girl if I'm not challenging myself.
Someone asked me yesterday if I ever wrote stories. Fiction. I had to say no. I've never even touched the genre with my own words. I devour it when I read, it's my favorite type of book, aside from the travel memoir, which is rapidly escalating in my word-hungry eyes.
I've been pondering why I've never written any fiction ever since. I think I stick as close to reality as I can in my posts and journaling because my imagination is such a personal place. I'm terrified to reveal it to anyone else.
I have a new respect for fiction writers. And I think it's a genre worth exploring for A Very Lucky Girl. It's a challenge, if nothing else.
God knows I don't shy away from a challenge. Tomorrow I dive into my final semester and will remain submerged beneath a pile of books, 18 hours of class, Skype tutoring to English students in Brazil, and a peer teaching assistant position until I surface for air and graduation in December. If I save money adequately and stick to a strict diet of Ramen, I will reward myself with a few weeks in Europe before starting real life in 2015.
I'm not going to promise a set number of blog posts. I can't promise I will blog at all this semester. But I swear to remain A Very Lucky Girl.