I obsess a lot about what I should write about. And I obsess over what this blog should be focused on, and how it should look and what the right image is and whether I’m creating my own niche in this vast network of connected computers. I obsess about my originality and uniqueness. And my spelling. Sometimes.
But I really don’t have it all figured out yet. At 21, my prefrontal cortex has barely begun to coalesce. I have no idea who I am, let alone what I should write about. I feel so inadequate when I see other blogs being cohesive and well put together, because the author knows exactly who they are and exactly what they want to tell the world. Their blog names are witty and well thought out, their posts are eloquent and grabbing. They have commenters, universal proof of an online presence. Jealousy and insecurity grapple with me and throw me to the ground in a cringing heap of failure. Rinse. Repeat.
At least that’s how it was in 2012.
In The Library (more on this later), I have the chance to change the way I feel about my blog and blogging in general. I have the chance to exercise a modicum of control about when and what I blog about. The fact is that there’s no way I can blog every day at 9AM but blogging every day is not an impossibility. It all has to do with whether I have the willpower and the motivation to get off my ass and get around the computer.
But this extends to writing in general. I haven’t been doing much of it, and the result is that I feel more and more like the fat kid on the playground who no one wants to be friends with and who gets short of breath every time he runs for more than five seconds (poor kid probably has asthma, too). If I can actually write every time I think about writing, instead of just thinking about it, maybe all that quantity will yield some high-quality work. It’s no P90-X, but I feel like if I exercise my writing muscles I can regain some of the literary fitness I’ve lost amid jargon-filled histories and objective physical examinations (where adjectives are superfluous and frowned upon).
It’s early enough in the year that resolutions still carry a lot of momentum. Let’s see if I can push my new attitudes forward on this wave. I’m going to release myself from the restraints of content, stop worrying about what kind of material would be best for this blog and just write. If I can feel confident that every post is my best piece of writing so far, then I will be happy.
One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever heard (and which is eminently applicable here) is from director Peter Farrelly to Matt Damon and Greg Kinnear on the set of Stuck on You, when after a frustrating take he walks a quarter of a mile over to them, looks at his feet, pauses and says simply,