In December 2019, I began to write this blog on the regular starting with the series Jumpsuits Across America, which chronicled Dennis and my drive across the United of States from NYC to the Inland Empire so we could hang out with my dad proper-like. After arriving, the regularity of Does This Make Me went weekly. Funnily enough, as with so many ideas, the impetus came from a friend I’d lost touch with except on that trusty platform FB. She wrote something along the lines of “keep up the stories please” and I decided, well yes, fine, I’ll write a post every week and see how long that lasts.

I’ve hit one-hundred. A centennial’s worth of weekly ramblings and, again you’ve no doubt heard this before, it seems like both yesterday and forever this past year-and-a-half-plus. Supersized really. The fact all of us went inside and stayed there shortly after we arrived made time snap into a new form. Gave me plenty to ruminate on: coining the word “tweebles” (roughly, a clueless one who does not/will not wear a mask), Dennis’s weird toilet paper score in Target, racial justice moments that required soul-searching and scorching honesty, fires, guest posts by lovely intelligent women named Charlotte and Anya, an election that damn-near killed us (upcomings may still), Amanda Gorman, vaccines (!!!) and my dad (an essay about which was published in the LA Times after my friend and writing partner Judy said, “You know, you really should write up this post and get it published.” Thank you, Judy!), and a hella-lot of topics and shout-outs and love letters and angry missives. Made people annoyed, smile, all kinds of things I’ve been told.

So how’s it going for me here and now. Looking back and looking forward. This exercise has without a doubt strengthened me as a writer. What I’ve learned is that the writing muscle responds pretty much like the deltoid(?maybe bicep?). Gets stronger when you use it regularly. Flexes looser but more precisely in the doing and doing and doing. All through my writing career I’ve heard tell of the benefits of journaling, morning paging, carrying a notebook and jotting things down. I never did any of that, except for as a journalist with a reporter’s notebook, but those were assignments. Now I see the usefulness of those recommendations. I’m not here to proselytize, more to say I understand now how the regularity of writing, which is in essence what I think those suggestions convey, really creates a fearlessness. I’m faster in the doing these days, not so much time-wise as letting ideas flow more smoothly. That’s not to say I don’t still comb over every week’s blog and revise, rewrite, and often scrap and start again. I do that. But it’s not the tension it was at the beginning. I don’t clench or pace as I did. I do still think, gaaah, crap, enough times to make me do it until it’s better. I mean, of course who wouldn’t love to just write it out and hit Publish. But no one does that. Seriously, no one. If a writer says they only do one draft, I’m pretty sure their fingers and toes are a mess of crossed behind their back, in their shoes.

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