There’s some very good benefits to giving up on the whole “real writing” deal.
Like stats, I can finally give up on checking the dang stats every time I publish a new post here. Sure I still look, but it’s easier to shrug them off now. Also, it’s a tad bit easier to pull something out of nothing for NaBloPoMo, I’ve lost the worry over “What will Blogher want to see?” and “What will they feature, or better yet Syndicate?” And there’s the daunting, “Oh my gawd, people will see that post and think I’m crazy for even thinking I could be a writer!” Lost that one too.
I needed a huge dose of “I don’t care” a very long time ago. Because I always cared, always, and I cared too much.
Which is a confusing mix of inner voices, because all the time when I was striving for this goal or that, letting my feelings get tied into who did what, and why not me… the whole time I was battling whether or not any of it was even the path for me. Mental punishment for both trying and for not trying hard enough.
Now I get to sick back and laugh at it all. And it feels good. I don’t have to care anymore. I can just enjoy putting words out into the interwebs… or not.
Granted, quitting something before you even really step out and try it on, probably isn’t the best “Go me” moment. Because when you get down to it, blogging and writing, are a whole heap of sameness, yet couldn’t be further apart. There’s such safety hiding behind little blurbs of thoughts, but writing, as in sending your works out to someone specifically, waiting for them, hoping they choose you… yeah.
Maybe one day I won’t be able to hold back those little voices in my head who want to walk down the aisle of a bookstore and see my name sitting on the shelf. But for now, I’m happy to be free from them.