Once upon a time, I used to write nonsensical posts about my life; things Greg and I did, my pets that I loved dearly, stuff I bought, photos I had taken. Sometimes immaturely written.
Point is, that time was before I became a mother. I had a lot of time on my hands. I’d stay up ’til insane hours, especially during the summer working on my blog, bettering it ’til I couldn’t better it no more. I commented on other blogs…a lot. Blogging sure was fun. Spotlight did.not.matter.
I come from the type of blogging that was straight forward. Today, I’m feeling this. I did this today and tomorrow this may happen.
As I matured and entered motherhood, I started running into the creative types. Complete thoughts, poetic rhythms, reflections, and life lessons. I felt my blog was a pretty face; kinda hollow on the inside. Throughout the years, I’ve always managed to dress my blogs in snazzy layouts and themes, but I never laced them with the substance of the written word.
I received a passing grade in Creative Writing, but I honestly believe that I failed. I hated the class, absolutely. I felt forced to unfold, when ultimately, I lacked the courage and maturity that I possess today to do so. To Whom It Concerns by Darlene Conner is a perfect example.
I often feel like I have to write posts of substance or provide some sort of OMG, thanks I really needed that! info. Otherwise, I should just blurt thoughts out willy nilly on Twitter. Yanno, because people need a reason to visit my blog; give it a nod. And Twitter blurts aren’t the same as blog posts. Fodder…yes. Hmm. I need to remember to write for me first and foremost, divulging only what I truly want to, even if my thoughts never make any sense. Eventually they will, so I will continue to write, coherent or not, instead of letting Twitter archive my personality.
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