What does one do when she rather abruptly quits her job, writes a blog post explaining why, and experiences a 20,000% increase in blog traffic because of said post? Well, she capitalizes on the wave of attention and writes another piece the very next day.

And then she publishes something new every day hence.

Unless, of course, “she” is me. In that case, she completely ignores her blog, works 14-hour days for three weeks straight in attempt to leave her job well, then gets on a boat to Alaska and disappears. *Poof*

When she returns, she can’t convince herself that she has anything remotely compelling to write, even though the world went bonkers (or, more accurately, bonkers-er) while she was eating Dramamine like candy and “OHMYGOSH”-ing over breaching humpback whales and calving glaciers.

She has opinions, as one might suppose, about Planned Parenthood and Boy Scouts and Donald Trump and gun control and billion-dollar sports stadiums. But she can’t seem to type more than three words before her right ring finger slams down on delete.

She reads Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird for the umpteenth time in an attempt to flatten her insecurity. This doesn’t work, because she does what she often does—which is to compare herself to Someone Else. Who? Oh, I’ll give you a hint: her initials are Anne Freaking Lamott.

The next best move would have been to read something terrible. You know—to lift her spirits and maybe stump her wicked-mean internal editor. But no. That’s not what she does. Instead, she visits John Pavlovitz’s and Rachel Held Evans’ blogs—both of whom have already written every brilliant thing that could’ve ever been written about all the stuff.

So she writes a post in which she refers to herself as a third person pronoun and vows to try again tomorrow.

(I’ll try again tomorrow.)