I’ll let you into a little secret. I have a love-hate relationship with my blog.
I love to write. I am a passionate advocate for the improvement of spelling, punctuation and grammar. I long to share my stories with the world.
When I allow others to read my work, I experience an intense vulnerability. I am at the mercy of the reader’s own interpretation of my work; their preferences, their critique. I open myself up for anyone to make their judgement upon my work and my person. There is so much of myself that I lock away from the world in my everyday existence that manifests itself when I put pen to paper. My penned nakedness terrifies me.
I can also tend to be a perfectionist. Nothing is ever truly complete; a sentence here can be replaced for a more apt description, a paragraph there can be refined and redefined. The quality of wishing to present your best and hone your creation is a good one; however, for me, I have found it to be crippling. I stop myself before I can even write. I judge my ideas while they are still in embryonic form. Stoned to death before a character can even come to life.
As an aspiring writer, it is an important goal of mine to write regularly. I’d write daily if I could. Yet I find myself thwarted by the fear of my exposure and the crippling perfectionistic mindset. So I started my blog, this blog that I love and hate.
I hate it because in order to keep myself posting regularly, I have given myself rules that I must follow. These rules are simple but important. I write whatever occurs to me in the moment, and, apart from one quick read through for typographical errors, I do not allow myself to edit. My hope is that through this I will see some of the contributors to my writer’s block removed from my path, and that by writing freely I will develop my voice.
I love it because in the midst of the fears, uncertainties, the not knowing who has read it and what their response to my work has been, I have set myself free. Even the most brilliant of writers in the world have had criticism sent their way, and not every genre and style will appeal to every person. I am bound to find someone who dislikes my work, if I am to be a writer. I have set myself free from this cage and I am hopeful for today and the days ahead. Sometimes, oftentimes, I have to remind myself of these truths. But with each word I release, I am set free.