In a world that puts so much out there, this may be hard to believe… I’m a private person writing a blog. I think most writers aren’t big sharers of the personal. But growth is predicated on doing what is uncomfortable.
Hence this blog. I’m going to make myself uncomfortable. Oh, I can feel the growth. (But maybe that’s because staring at a computer all day is sedentary.) And I haven’t told a soul. No shouts from the rooftop. No massive email alert. The time in “granny tech support” alone for the oldsters on the list wouldn’t be worth it. I’m not even convinced anyone I know would be interested in life, writing and the west. They’re all Facebook addicts. You know…that carefully controlled medium of how you want to be perceived; where half the profile pictures are glamour shots ten years out of date leading you to bite your tongue when you see them in person and say, “Damn, girl. You okay? You look…tired.”
In my twenties, I wrote a bit on the side. Correction: I wrote and ripped. Overwhelmed with insecurities that what I was writing was worthless or weird, I ripped up the pages. This could be a commonplace newbie thing to do, but what the hell do I know. I don’t share, I said. I do things the hard way. Learn backwards, if you will. Why? Because I’m stubborn (yeah, I think I should capitalize that… Stubborn).
So, I started this blog because, “Having a blog is a must for an author!” That’s literally what this email said. Maybe they weren’t so hyped about it though, using an exclamation point. But whatever. I felt yelled at. It was like my kid changing the background on my phone from my beautiful candid of the family in Yosemite to the back of his tonsils, when I know for a fact he’s a terrible brusher. Then times me on how long it will take for me to change it back. Bring it on punk! I ain’t afraid of your stink-breath. Or technology.
My blogging pledge: I’ll try and post pieces that might be helpful to a writer three steps behind me (try not to trip over me). I know I follow the blogs of writers that are 100 steps ahead of me and it’s been very helpful. If I post about life, I’ll try to give the illusion of intrigue and mystery, but it just might be why mosquitoes are drawn to only me in a crowd. But I firmly promise not to post crap about how adorable my kids are because a) that’s annoying, and b) they’re totally out of that stage, and so am I. If it’s about the west, most likely it will be about my mangy brother and his rugrats. That’s comic gold. Gold, I tell you! Or downer social issues, but hopefully with a silver lining.
So do something uncomfortable today… It either means you’re growing or have an atomic wedgie.
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