“I really like your writing…”
I feel the same way, but never would have been brave enough to say it…
“I read your blog all the time!”
I need to talk to you but please don’t blog about me, or if you do, don’t use my name…
People read what I write. Some like it, some don’t, and I think that some of the draw is the freedom I feel to speak out, the importance I believe of words shared with the world.
I write because I have to. It’s who I am. The need to put words together courses through my veins. Sometimes, I regret what I’ve put out into the world but most of the time, I don’t – in fact, most of the time, I am proud for having found a way to weave the words and sentences into a meaningful story that people read and nod their head at.
Last night in my house, people awoke a lot in the night. For me, it’s nerves on behalf of my son, whose first bar mitzvah is in 48 hours. He’s been practicing and learning for two years for this moment, and people are starting to arrive from Israel and New York and points elsewhere to hear him and to celebrate him.
It’s also nerves on my own behalf, for this is the bar mitzvah his father is hosting, and it will be really the first time in seven years that our families come together for hours at a time to focus on our shared beloved Asher. We will be civil, we will be kind, we will smile and say hello and welcome one another in our presence, but it will be a tad awkward, I am sure. Still, at least we all can come together for his sake, putting our own rocky paths aside.
For my daughter, waking in the night is because of her first basketball tournament this morning, nerves over whether her team will play well and advance to the finals. Will she play well, will she score, will she understand the game well enough to advance? This kept her up in the night.
Before my husband could even come to bed, the garage door wouldn’t close fully, so he needed to wrestle with his tools in the dark night and fix it so this morning, we can lift and leave without trouble.
This morning, as I washed up and awakened my soul to the new dark day soon to dawn in pinks and golds, I thought about picking up my little guy early from school yesterday for a stomachache, which is code for anxiety about something going on with friends. As my mother has always said, you’re only as happy as your unhappiest child.
Why do I blog?
I started blogging as a way to motivate myself to write regularly. I’ve never been much for journaling, so as this new medium exploded, I thought it might be the right place to hone my craft and string words together into stronger skills because I would know that someone, somewhere might stumble upon my writing and read it.
Writing for an audience seems to matter more than writing for oneself. And then people did read, and they anticipated the next blog, so I had to keep at it, for my audience, and to offer my unique perspective to the world.
Next week, I started a 21 Day Blogging Challenge to help others, step by step, hone their voice so they can share it with the world. Should you be part of it? Is your perspective needed in the discourse marketplace? Are you noticing details about life that might help others or heal the world?
Think about joining me. At the very least, you’ll know yourself better by the end.