I’m still confused. What do I blog about? Yes, I’m sort of here to blog for the sake of blogging; to exercise my writing fingers, squeeze the creative juices and express my day-to-day woes. But I’m also here to get on my high horse about things that drive me to despair, rant and rave about political dissent, share foodie experiments, artistic insights and educate where qualified. WordPress tells me I need to focus; choose a topic and target an audience. But can’t I just be myself? I am not just one thing. I don’t have one interest. I don’t want 50 blogs.
Perhaps the focus will find itself the more accustomed I get to sitting down and putting digits to keyboard. We don’t need another breastfeeding blog, knitting, recipes or exercise. Too political could be dry, too moralistic and I’ll come across preachy, too spiritual and I’ll be branded a hippy — not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Hmm. Back to the drawing board.
Time to get this blog started. But what do I write? Where do I start? It has to start somewhere and there’s no time like the present. So, here goes…
I’m an aspiring writer so the pressure is really on, and I guess that’s what’s held me back blogging all these years. Being judged on every misplaced semi-colon, over-enthusiastic comma and cluttered metaphor frankly spooks me. But that’s the name of the game, right? How can I gain the confidence to write in any public forum if I’m afraid to rant anonymously online? And that’s assuming anyone will even read this.
Panic consumes me at the mere thought of “tweeting”. With a pathetic handful of followers, I agonise over what to say and how to say it, when I am I brimming with opinions, bursting with ideas, teeming with criticism and complaint about any and everything – I go blank. I’m choked with an anticipation of some kind of failure. Is this an abstract narcissism? Surely such self-doubt and desire for perfection are born of an unhealthy vanity. Because I don’t think I lack confidence.
It’s this crippling paranoia that has held me back in my career and personal life and the only way to combat it is to thrash the perimeter of my comfort zone and just do it (“it” being writing stuff, in this case).
Well, I never predicted my first blog post would evolve into self-psychoanalysis, but hey, at least I wrote something. Let’s keep it short and sweet.
The end (of the beginning).