When I started this blog I had every intention of writing it regularly and using it to record my journey from aspiring writer trapped in a day job to published author. Not an original idea, I was well aware.
But as with so many people’s tentative toe-dips into the cold and daunting waters of the blogosphere, I backed out quickly, leaving my first post up and alone like a one-legged man’s footprint on the shore.
I don’t know why I find it so difficult. It’s different to writing fiction. Scarier somehow because it’s more personal. I can write thousands of words a day about the world I’ve created in my novels but when it comes to writing about my real world, I can’t do it.
What am I afraid of? Why can’t I blog?
The answer is fear. Blogosphobia. I’ve realised that I don’t know how to write about my own experiences. And even if I could, who would be interested? This fear has paralysed me. I hear thoughts crossing through my mind such as ‘what if my blog isn’t as good as ?’ or ‘what if it’s rubbish?’.
Ultimately, I’ve come to accept that those questions are irrelevant. I recently read an amazing book by Bronnie Ware, incredible writer of the Inspiration and Chai blog. Her book, The Top Five Regrets of the Dying is one that I’d been nervous to read for a long time. I suppose I found the title to be morbid even though the reviews all raved about how hugely uplifting it was. I hid from it in any case. Then finally this week I plucked up the courage and bought myself a copy. What a life-changing read!
It has made me readdress the fear in my life. It has inspired me. Early in the book Bronnie tells an emotional story about a woman who dies without having lived her life in a way that is true to herself. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not comparing my fear of blogging to the dreadful anguish of looking at ones life from a terminal perspective and feeling unhappy with the outcome. I don’t expect that I’ll lie on my deathbed and regret not writing a blog more regularly but there was a lesson to learn about what was holding me back. About fear in all areas of my life.
So I’m trying again with the blog. A sequel. A second footprint in the infinite expanse of the internet. It has no impression to make, no message to give. It’s just a dip on the surface that will be washed over and lost among the millions of heavier steps and crashing waves that smash through the blogosphere with bigger force and mightier strength.
But this tiny footprint is mine. It will not mean anything to anybody. I don’t expect it to be read or reposted or to inspire millions and set the beach on fire. It’s simply a kick to my blogosphobia. A climbing back on the horse moment.
Today the new question I’m asking myself is simply this: what will I write about next?