Recently, I started using twitter as a way to meet other writers and promote my writing. I must say I have met a lot of wonderful people and made some good contacts, but I keep hearing one question over and over:
Where’s your blog?
I didn’t have one. It was that simple.
When I realized that 99.9% of the writers I had met, had one, I suddenly felt lacking. It seems that to be anyone in the writing world, you need to have a blog.
So that presented my next challenge. I needed a blog.
That is easier said, then done. I’m a perfectionist when it comes to my writing. I like to sit with my words, absorb them, mull them over till they seem right, before I send them off to face the big bad world.
(I’m overprotective that way.)
Blogging is different. You think of something to say and say it. There’s no editing it for weeks and no beta readers. It’s just you, the computer screen, and the world hungrily waiting to devour your words in a matter of few minutes.
This thought seems to give me a case of performance anxiety. I think that’s why I’ve waited so long to jump on the blogging bandwagon. In my mind, people expect something profound from a blog. Some little life lesson summed up in a few paragraphs. Could I do that? Could I actually blog about things that mattered to people?
Thinking this, I realized I had forgotten why I started writing in the first place. It wasn’t about what other people wanted written. It was about writing what made me happy. About what I wanted to bring to life in this world.
I read recently “It is better to write for yourself and have no public, then to write for the public and have no self.” I think this is the best advice I have ever heard. I write, because to me, not writing is as deadly as not breathing. I should remember that in all that I do.
So, Hello World, I am here. Whether or not you want to hear me, I’m letting my voice stand out. I’m writing to stay alive.