Which, when it comes down to it, is dumb. I'm sure I have a lot to say--I just need to dig it up from under all the crap my conscious mind likes to pile on it. I'm a writer, for goodness sake. I should have something to write about!
I suppose I could wax poetic about how awesome it is to be part of the Beyond the Trope podcast. Or I could muse about the fact that my first published short story is coming out soon. Or I could gush about how fantastic Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers is.
But I think I've covered all of those pretty well in previous blog posts (and, really, they're recurring themes, so I need other things to post about, too).
I guess it really boils down to an inferiority complex on my part: I'm a tiny little nobody in a big online ocean, shouting into the wind, so it feels like my voice doesn't really matter.
Of course, there's another part of me that wants to just smack those thoughts right out of my head. Every voice matters, even my tiny, uncertain one.