A few years ago, before I created this blog, I told someone I knew that I wanted to start blogging again. She immediately told me that if I wanted to have a blog, then I needed to get out and do more things in order to have anything to write about. I laughed and said “Even for a book blog?” “No,” she said, “not for a book blog.”
In spite of her good intentions with giving me advice, the conversation shook my confidence a little bit. Several years later, I can still hear what she said whenever I sit down to write a post. I haven’t gone out and done anything to make this post interesting, I think to myself. What I want to write isn’t interesting enough because it’s only the fruits of my mind rather than reporting on my experiences.
This is the problem with starting or having a creative outlet: Everybody wants to tell you how it should be instead of seeing all the possibilities of what it could be. When I created this blog, I was very afraid of what direction it was going to take. I started with short, creative clips. Then I tried going a couple of places and writing about it, but that soon got boring and tiring.
I began reading other blogs, trying to glean any knowledge of what made their site work. There are thousands of blogs out there that just focused on one topic and that worked for what they wanted to get out of it. But I was also happy to see that there were writers like me who didn’t necessarily want to go out and write about places and experiences. They were content to sit down and write about their thoughts, feelings and stories without having to go anywhere to get them. They were content to just write. And in that, I felt a sense of relief. I don’t have to be someone I’m not.
I eventually settled in and just wrote about whatever I felt like writing about. Sometimes it was about a movie I saw, other times it was a thought I wanted to explore, other times it was just plane creative prose. Once I stopped trying to fit myself into something that everyone else expected me to fit into with my blog, I felt much happier. I could do what I want and not worry that I might be disappointing someone with my work. And of course, there might be someone out there who doesn’t like a post, but that’s just that person. I’m only here to write for myself.
Sometimes (okay, maybe a bit more than that), I still get a cringe of uneasiness that I’m not doing this write. I feel bad for not telling you about the little tea shop I went to a few weeks ago or the annoying voice of the woman of a HGTV show that I just finished watching last night. But you know what? I didn’t want to write about them. If I tried, I wouldn’t have sound genuine and authentic. I would’ve sounded like someone who was writing an essay for class rather than for a blog she created for herself. If I wanted to, I would have. It just depends on what catches my creative fancy.
And in the end, that’s all that matters.