A couple days ago, I had a conversation in which I attempted to explain Phreelance Writers to my grandparents.  It was pretty easy, especially since I had some Internet access that allowed me to show them a post right on the site.  I read them my latest post—the one about being uninspired and therefore unable to write.  My grandmother made an impassioned comment (aloud—not on the blog): “It’s not that you can’t write,” she said.  “It’s that you’re choosing not to write.”

I thought about it.  I didn’t quite agree, but I think there were a couple reasons for this disconnect, the first being a sizeable generation gap.  My grandmother is a voracious reader, but is more familiar with fiction novels than she is with the blogosphere.  She pointed out “All great writers, despite a lack of inspiration, write everday.”  Zing!  By that logic I’ll never be great.  I don’t write every day.  Not by a long shot.

There’s another reason for my disagreement though: the medium.  My dad agreed: there’s a difference between writing every day and posting every day.  One is private, one is public.  The “greats” have the luxury of writing worthless swill in their everyday writing routine, because they don’t have to put their name on it and let the whole networked world see it.  No such luxury for us.

True, I’m choosing not to write.  But the reason I’m choosing not to is because I’m unable to write something inspired.  It’s a cause and effect situation—I’m not going to write something that I’m embarrassed by and then publish it to the blog.  I’m still a believer that writing for the sake of writing isn’t worth my while.  I need a purpose to give me direction.  I need a point, or a focus, or some sort of goal that I want that writing to accomplish.  If that solidifies my lowly, un-great status as a writer, then so be it.  I’m a journalist anyway.