Why am I writing here? That’s a good question and one posed to me by my husband. I have a “writer’s blog” I’ve had on WordPress dot com for close to a decade, and several other blogs I publish as well.
Do you want an honest answer?
No one is reading here.
When I am write on this site, I can let my hair down and not worry about the expectations set by the people who have subscribed to me via email on my blog. A blog that has seen me grow as a person and a writer.
Forget about the corporate sponsors. Forget about Google page rank. Forget about SEO/SEM and all of the promotions I have to do as part of my role as a working writer.
I can just write.
And really, that’s all I want to do. Just write. I want to share the thoughts that flitter and flutter about my head without recrimination. In fact, I have a list of things I want to get off of my chest. It’s funny, if the stuff I wanted to write about literally sat on my chest, I would have a heaving bosom. One of those people want to crawl into and be comforted by.
Seeing as how I am already the worlds best hugger, I think having that type of bosom would clinch the title for me.
That train of thought. The one right up there ^^^ is why I need an outlet.
In this modern ultra-PC world where everyone is so uptight about what you’re writing, I am stifled by lack of artistic expression. I cannot share what is on my mind a great deal of the time, because if I were to do that, I wouldn’t be the right choice. For a long time, being the right choice really mattered to me. And I have been miserable.
This past Monday, I said I quit. I’m still not sure what I am quitting, nor why. But I was driving down the road and it just came out. I’m not sure if I would be going too far if I said it came out like explosive diarrhea.
All of that glorious bodily function sexy talk aside, I am here because I am a writer. I don’t care who is reading. I care that I am writing, and for now that has to be enough.