You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.

I've realized something. The longer I go without writing, the harder it is for me to put pen to paper again, to recognize opportunities when they present themselves to me (that is, recognizing when I can exploit a given situation into writing), to open up my blog and type something in here that I feel is "worth posting." There's a difference between a piece of writing being "worth posting" and "worthy." Most of the stuff that ends up in my virtual niche I feel is "worth posting," but whether or not it's "worthy" the jury has yet to determine.

As I'm typing this entry I'm hating it. I feel like I have nothing much to say. Simultaneously, I realize that that's ridiculous. I think writer's block is a farce, and I haven't been writing simply because I haven't been trying. Art (and I'm not saying that my writing is art, but a degree in creative writing is a fine arts degree, so there) is in the pursuit. Hence, Jack London's quote is the title for this bumbling entry. My apologies for its rather pontifical manner. Actually, no apologies for this entry; that's lame.