I looked back the other day. I've been blogging since 2004 in one place or another. 2004. That's a lot of years, a lot of thoughts, a lot of mess to work through. I don't have a great deal of what I've written in the past and to some extent I regret that, but at the same time, I look at what I have written, not all of it, but more than half of it, and think to myself, "I don't really want anyone to read that and relate it to me."
It's taking me a long time to grow up.
I had said at the beginning of this month that I was going to blog about writing. And that I was working through a book, 31 Days to Finding your Blogging Mojo to kindle those thoughts. Then I re-read the first day.
What central "feel" do you want your blog to have?
I mean really, HMMMM.
Let's face it, the content I write, there's plenty of other writers out there adding their voice to the fray at least as well as I, if not better. There's mommy bloggers, minimalists, runners and Christians aplenty, all with something to say. There's even a few pastor's wives with the guts to have words and opinions for public consumption (this isn't a slam on pastor's wives, it's a jab at the people who sit around waiting to critique and fault find with every thought church leaders express).
Don't even get me started about opinions. I spent the last six months actively avoiding that vitriolic cesspool. I've gone the polarizing opinion route (I do have them, lots of them. I am highly opinionated), and found it to be a real energy waster when I have only limited energy and so many things of actual value to spend it on.
For awhile I went the "what I accomplished today" route with my writing. At that point in time I had a lot of small humans and a lot of stuff, and I suppose I needed to feel like I was doing something. But I honestly don't care to read the laundry list of people's days, as much as I utilize the list here in my real life, and I no longer have such small folk or so much stuff. Or a need to write about how it all fits together.
These are the things I don't want. But what DO I want? And perhaps even more important, what do you want? I'm putting words out there, so you know I'm wanting people to read them. We won't play games with that fact.
This is the concept that tied me in knots.
I've thought about it so much these last weeks. What voice do I want to have? What do I want people to think of when they think of my words. There's a permanent nature to writing that is hard to erase from the page and from people's minds.
I want my words to be beautiful, to breathe life, to be simple and uncover wonder. I want to bring joy and Hope into a world filled with discontent and squalor. I want people to walk away feeling lighter.
Yeah, that's not intimidating at all, is it?
But I can't allow the bigness of these visions be what keeps me from pecking out these little blurbs of thought and life onto the page each day. I've been waiting...maybe for something easier or smaller to work its way out of me, but this is the real vision.
Such small words with such magnificent weight. It's what I want in my day, in my life, in my words.