Sometimes I sit here, my hands idle on the keyboard. Sometimes I don’t have a clue what to write about, I just want to write. I begin to wonder who will read it. Although, I actually don’t wonder. It’s more like I converse back and forth with myself about the importance and worth of what I want to write. This is usually what that conversation might sound like;
Voice of reason: “Really, you’re going to write about that? Nobody cares about your problems, go read a book. You’ll think of something better to write about later.”
Clueless me voice: “Hey everybody struggles with something, maybe somebody can relate.”
Voice of reason : “No I’m serious, you should go and read that book you started on the bus this morning. Nobody cares about your random thoughts.”
Desperate me voice : “But I just want to write something, people don’t have to read it if they’re not interested.”
Voice of reason: “So basically you’re writing for you? You know, they have diaries for that right?”
Frustrated me: “I’m 25, it’s a journal, and I write in it when I’m in the mood. When something happens in my life that I want to remember. It’s different writing a blog. Some people actually read it, and I want them to care enough want to read it.”
Voice of reason: “Alright, so you’re not writing for you, you’re writing for everyone else. That’s why you can’t think of anything good to write. You’re trying too hard.”
Hopeless me: sigh… “I don’t know who I’m writing for.”
Voice of reason: “You’re hopeless.”
Hopeless me: “I know, I’m just going to go read a book.”
Thus the conversation is over and nothing is written. Other times I am not so hopeless and I do write something, but then a week passes and four people have read my post. A vicious cycle of self doubt and wondering why I bother begins all over again.
Sometimes I go with my gut and say what is on my mind no matter who or how many people read the post that week. But sometimes, mostly all the time, I enjoy getting some sort of response out of my blog posts.
I have to remind myself that I cannot write just for the sake of writing, nor can I write just for the sake of wanting to be heard. I have a feeling that neither of those things will make me the writer I want to be. Maybe I should just focus on what is on my heart and go with that. I remind myself that saying what I need to say is more important than the doubts that want to hold me back.