“Anne. I would think that you would write a book someday”. Dad told me yesterday. “You should try to write a book”.
Tonight, when Paul found me writing, he told me, “You should write about me in this one...because I’m cool”.
Dad is wondering why I am writing blog posts and not chapters in a novel, an article in a newspaper, or in the framework of what might become a true life non-fiction work. My father, who is currently reading Seabiscuit by Laura Hillenbrand, tells me I could write a book like that. Maybe. It is full of research and I love research. But I come back to what I know to be true about why I am writing these blog posts.
I write to sort things out. I write to quiet my mind. I write to express what I can’t seem to express out loud. I write to celebrate, to ruminate, to investigate, to contemplate. I write to preserve, to unearth, to gain strength, to fall apart. I write to connect and to disconnect. I write to practice and to perfect, to bring order and to accept that it’s okay that life gets messy at times.
I realize that there are many days when I post writing that is poorly crafted. The old me would have crumbled up the piece of paper it was written on, or else I’d have closed the word document without saving it first. This blog has allowed me a chance to do what some of my favorite authors have given as advice to fellow writers. “Write everyday. Just write. EVERYDAY”. So, good or bad, I am doing that.
Perhaps it is strange to some that I am not only writing everyday but that I am publishing my writing everyday on this blog. I never know from day to day who is reading what I am writing, what he or she thinks of it, where or when they read it, how it may be judged, or why he or she took the time to read it in the first place. But I think it’s that mystery and the challenge of my goal for 365 posts in 365 days that makes me continue. Maybe that’s silly but hey, it’s pushing me to write everyday so who cares?! Additionally, forever an actress at heart, I suppose I have also enjoyed the idea of having an audience, even if it’s a small audience or one that I never really see. What is different with publishing my writing is that, although I am possibly again “performing”, I am not hiding behind some character or some song that was crafted by someone else. And although I do not “see” my audience, I find the idea of having a mystery audience rather appealing. Even if no one is actually reading a particular day’s entry, the possibility that someone is, that someone is perhaps even connecting with something I have written, makes me take my writing more seriously. The blog is full of “first draft writings”, but at least I am writing. I’m trying. I’m doing what I love. Everyday.
So good or bad, audience or no audience, non-fiction, novel, or blog, this is all a risky and yet invigorating new adventure for me to be writing everyday. I share segments of my life and its days, my thoughts, my inquiries and my reflections, and I grow more confident in myself as a writer. I think that is rather cool. It’s almost as cool as my son Paul.