What happened to the funny posts?

I no longer amuse you in the ways I used to, Blogreader, and this makes me a little sad. I've been achingly serious lately in my real life, too. I cannot explain this. It seems, through looking back in time on my blog, that my last truly jokey post was the Writing Tip joke that people found so uproariously funny over a week ago. I'm kidding, of course. No one found that post all that funny.

I find I can fake it at work, but not here.

To those of you who keep blogs and have noticed that I don't comment very often anymore, I apologize. Between working a lot and keeping my promise to myself with regard to novel-writing, I find myself at a loss for both words and time. Often, I'll come up with something to say on one of your posts and then be pulled away for ten hours or so and the freshness has gone. Again, I apologize. I still read pretty much all of the blogs in my links section, and a few more besides, whether through the actual site or through Bloglines.

I suppose I'm in danger of being considered a bad blogger, and not participating fully in the community, and that's probably fair. I guess I'll consider myself a truly bad blogger only if I stop reading the other blogs I've grown to love, or stop wanting to comment and interact with you.

I still try to reply to any comment left here, and I'm trying to post as regularly as I can.

To those of you who have grown accustomed to speaking with me via telephone or email or in person and have noticed that I haven't been in touch lately, please read the above and substitute words more appropriate to your situation.

I suppose I just haven't been feeling very communicative lately. Those of you who have been around me a while know that I get like this from time to time. I disappear. I have nothing to say that feels urgent enough to express.

Mostly, right now, I just want to dissolve myself into my novel until I can finish the first draft. I feel like I haven't accomplished much lately, and the time I put into my blog feels a little like time I should be spending on the novel. I wrote almost eight thousand words this weekend, and I want to keep that momentum going, which takes a lot of effort for me.

I don't know if I should admit this, but I hit a wall on the novel tonight, fell into a hole, and am experiencing one of those periods where I think the whole thing is just a pile of shit. This probably doesn't help me feel funny and expressive either. It makes me feel terrible, vulnerable, and fraudulent. I went through this sort of thing every few days during NaNo, so I know by now not to let it stop me. But it still really sucks. I suppose I should take my solace in the fact that I've been writing every day for a week and this has been the first day that has felt like this. Perhaps that's some sort of growth. Or an increase in my capacity for self-delusion.

Having said all of that, it is entirely possible that I will awaken tomorrow morning, refreshed in spirit, and begin posting and commenting all over the place. Because those who have known me for any length of time also know that I am flighty.

But should I awaken feeling just like I do right now, I hope all of you will know that I still read and think about the things you say, even if I don't always stop by and tell you so.