How To Commit, a novel by someone other than me

If my life was a movie, you’d currently be seeing a montage of me sitting down at the computer, getting up, pacing around, opening a new blog post, staring at it until my eyes squinch up, more pacing, more hemming and hawing, and maybe a gratuitous shot of my head dramatically face down on the table. Something catchy like “Build Me Up Buttercup” would be playing in the background, having no real commentary on my inability to commit to a post, but making you tap your foot along to my troubles anyway.

Because why not.

I was getting frustrated with myself for not just getting over the stupid “I just can’t motivate myself to actually decide and WRITE” vibe I’ve got going on until I remembered I could barely decide what type of cheese I wanted on my biscuit this morning. In my defense, they’ve never asked for my preference before and launched five choices on me without any warning. But still, I realize this is an issue.

My friends even know, “What’s your favorite…” is a terrible question, so they’ve gotten into the habit of asking, “What’s ONE of your favorite…” I like to think I’m not limiting my options and keeping an open mind by not committing to ONE SOLITARY ANSWER, but when I step back into reality from my “even my weaknesses are somehow strong points, right??” dream world, I know there is an element to craziness there. But, I’m not completely crazy. For instance,

My favorite color is green.

See? I have favorites. My favorite flowers are sunflowers and hydrangeas, my favorite cats are all cats, and my favorite hot beverage is tea. And apple cider. And in the winter, hot chocolate. And sometimes coffee, although I’m mainly a social drinker.

Okay, it’s a problem. When it comes to small decisions, I’m pretty wishy washy. Unless we’re talking about hard boiled eggs or whistling. The answer to both of those is always a resounding no.

Anyway, in an effort to force myself to get over that weird non-committal attitude about things that don’t really matter, I’m just going to write about something. Everything. Nothing. Just so long as I’m writing, because I love it, and it’s silly that I just don’t because I’m lazy or indecisive or afraid it’s not good enough. Seriously that is so dumb. SO. Here’s to using the extra time I have this summer to actually, you know, write stuff.

Excited and terrified and a little bit hungry,

Anna Beth


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