I think maybe the important thing for writers is just to keep writing even if they don’t at first think they have anything to say.
Only because it’s cathartic. It brings a unique satisfaction. If my brain is a leaky tire, then words are my oxygen.
I’ve long wondered what this blog would become should I make it a daily practice rather than an occasional one.
(I hate blogging about blogging but I’m going to follow this train of thought anyways.)
It could become a collection of boring thoughts that don’t make sense. It could become a compelling journal about an ordinary middle class American life. It could become an ode to mothering or writing or San Francisco. It could be good practice for finding my voice. It could be all of these and none of these depending on the day.
But I haven’t taken the leap because I don’t know if I want to expose that much of myself. Which reminds me of this poignant quote by my current favorite artist of my generation, Lena Dunham:
Shame is the emotion that makes us feel most isolated from each other, and the most isolated from ourselves. It’s deeply important to try to rid ourselves of it. Exorcising your demons is a gift that you can give to other people, I think. It’s what makes our art not totally self-indulgent nonsense.
I think I’m ready to experiment. I learned this year that change is good. 2015 is around the corner, I’ll be 30 soon. I feel like shaking things up. In truth, I’m bored more often than I’m not. Maybe because I’ve been playing it too safe.
Instead of wasting time on the how, I’m going to leave it at the intention: I intend to take more risks. I intend to blog more frequently. I intend to publish more work. I intend to make new friends.
Perhaps this could be the year..