Well, I sort of got into this blogging thing to get Cleggy blogging. Let's face it. The man is an uber talented writer, as anyone who has read his blog will agree. And he needs to be writing. Heck he needs to be getting paid for writing. The guy reads a ton of blogs so you'd think that talking him into blogging would be easy, right? Not so much.
In true Cleggy style after months of me mentioning it whenever I could work it into the conversation and then finally giving up, he says, "Hey let's start blogging." Cut to me getting up off the floor after fainting. I'm so excited that I immediately sign up. I get into it. I pick out a template & layout. List some links. Cleggy comes up with the name of my blog and I'm all set.
Dagnabit! Now I have to write! If this were a video blog, this is where you'd see me in full panic mode. Thankfully it is not since at that moment I was in my nightgown. Not a pretty site.
Okay, the first blog was easy. Sheer fluff. Short and sweet.
Now here we are over two weeks later and all my good intentions have been shot. I have not blogged every day. No world-stopping revelations revealed. No witty insights or pithy comments.
So why are you still reading this?! Probably because you know and love me. Not an audience to complain about for sure. And why am I still struggling to keep blogging? Probably because I know that without a writing outlet I feel stifled, even smothered.
I might not be good at it, but I need it. If I don't express myself through the written word I feel as if my mind is collapsing in on itself. As if everything that makes me who I am is falling into an internal black hole. Devoured by a vast nothingness where not even the light of ten suns has the power to exist. Let alone shine.
So I started blogging for Cleggy, but I keep blogging for me. Hoping in all of this that one or two thoughts won't get lost in the translation from my alien brain to the electronic pulses that make up the internet. Praying for the moment every writer longs for. The all too brief moment when for an instant another human being reads the words you wrote and truly understands them as you meant them to be. The fleeting connection of mind and soul that makes a writer's heart beat faster and gives them a rush like no other.
That's been the draw for me since I was five and I first put on paper the bedtime stories I made up for my little brother. From the first word I was hooked and it's a habit I have no intention of breaking.