Last fall I started a blog. I was really unsure about whether it would be worth my time and very insecure about putting my thoughts out there. But the idea also appealed to me, so in the spirit of personal growth through discomfort, I committed to trying it for a year. Now I’m nearing the other side, having written at least twice per month since last fall, and it’s time to decide whether to keep going.
The Case for Blogging
My initial reasons for blogging were vague and varied. The largest reason was as a public journal and record. I can remember facts much better than experiences, so biweekly posts help serve as a highlight reel for things I’m likely to forget. (This is especially important after I managed to delete several years of personal photos. Oops!)
The regular writing was also a good sandbox for playing with ideas about mindfulness, place, nature, and world-embetterment. Writing online made me write offline, and I’m currently journaling at a rate not seen since the days of my sixth-grade diary. (Note that I have moved on from the yellow floral-print journal with a gold lock.)
My hope was that I’d also be interesting and have something useful to say to help other people. Hopefully, people would read it and like it. And come back.
The Case Against Blogging
So why not blog?
Simply: Sheer terror about putting my personal thoughts put on the Internet, compounded by the fact that people might actually read them.
What Happens in a Year
A year later, my thoughts about it haven’t really changed. I’ve written more than 50 posts over two blogs. (I moved about halfway through the year to shift the focus a bit. Older posts are here.) When I look back, I generally like what I’ve written, and I am really happy to have the record of my travels. I remembered how much I like writing and I pursued a side gig freelancing for Greatist.com. And this is in addition to my day job, where I’ve always done a ton of interesting writing.
And I’m still equally thrilled (Thanks for dropping by!!) and mortified by the thought of your reading this.
I wish I didn’t have the mixed feelings, but that’s probably the past that’s been most useful for me because it makes me think a lot about—even obsess—what the he’ll I’m trying to do with my writing. And, by extension, my life. (Cue existential What-does-it-all-mean-What-is-my-purpose thoughts…).
If nothing else, if no one reads this or finds it at all valuable, I know that it has helped me clarify some of my thoughts about what’s important to me and what I would like to do.
Just Like TV
If this were TV, it would be the end-of-season flashback episode with links to previous posts serving as the blurry transitions to memories. And just like any end of any good season finale, I’m going to end this one with a bit of a cliffhanger…