What is it about being read that is such a powerful force?
When I was younger, I was an occasional diary keeper. From the time I was in middle school, I wrote my diary as though someone might read it. It was an odd self-censorship that, even now, I don't entirely understand. I'm not sure who I expected to see it or what I wanted to come of it, but the idea was ever present.
In retrospect, I think I wanted someone to care enough to read it. It is also likely that I harbored a secret desire to have my grievances aired to... to...
As I developed as a writer, I often struggled with the idea of writing for writing's sake, or writing as a matter of exercise. If I didn't see something fitting into something I would put out to the world, I found it hard to put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard. It was quite stifling at times.
And now I find myself starting a new blog as part of a new commitment to writing. Again, the idea of having someone read is the elephant in the room of my psyche. Is it validation I seek? Is it a vague sense of self-importance? Maybe it's a desire for connection. I feel so very much at home in the written word, it's as though it is there that I seek out company.
I don't think this feeling is going anywhere. I'm going to attempt to be empowered by it, motivated by it. I'm promising myself fifteen minutes a day, after all.
My Southern Fried Femme, I can relate. I have a dirty secret. My childhood (and adult) private musings are read, by myself. For so many years I have read and reread my own writing. The distance of time has taught me so much. Visiting former versions of myself through my writing seems to have become a natural process of self reflection for me. I share this to encourage you to question if in fact you may be the most important reader.
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