An odd thing happened to me today. I discovered that I wasn’t writing for myself anymore. Instead I was trying to predict what people wanted to read and that’s just not me. I can’t write like that.
There was a time when I posted happily, just excited that I wrote something. When people started to read I was overjoyed. I received responses to posts and thought wow, people actually care what I have to say.
At some point, writing became tedious. I was constantly wracking my brain trying to figure out what to write. It had to be something good. Something people would read and hopefully respond to. I even started asking my husband to read what I wrote just to make sure it sounded all right.
I wanted to be a helpful resource. But who am I to give advice? I’m just a girl who loves to read and write. Life advice I can give. Writing advice… not so much. I wanted to get some followers and hopefully help my writing career, but let’s face it, I’m socially awkward and not particularly adept at knowing what others want to read. Heck, I don’t even know what I like to read.
Sure I visit others’ blogs and think I can do that too. Maybe I could. And maybe sometime down the road I will. Right now… eh, I’m not going to worry about it.
So I’m going to go back to posting with reckless abandon. Once again it’s just me and my thoughts — back to what I originally wanted to do.