On Blogging: What I'm Doing Here

I've been posting on this blog for five years. Sporadically, mostly. Sometimes very sporadically. But somehow I always come back to it. And at several points since I've had this blog, I've felt inclined (or prompted?) to take it more seriously, to post more, to try to do something with it. But let me tell you, there are a lot of ways to talk myself out of doing that. I'd try, but then I'd get too busy, or I'd post something and get zero comments, or I'd post something and actually get comments (which was almost more terrifying, somehow?), or I'd think I had nothing to say, or I'd worry that what I had to say was something I was not supposed to say, on and on, you get the point.

Recently, I had that feeling again, and I was talking to my sister about it, and she said I ought to just do it. I'd been turning the idea over and over in my head for weeks, thinking really hard about it while I did other things, asking myself the hard blogger questions: it's too self-absorbed, right? It's not really a worthy writerly form, right? What if, in some bizarre twist, it actually takes off, and then someone says something so mean that I never want to post a post or leave my house again?

I told my sister, "I'll try." And she said, "Don't try. Do it."

So I'm doing it. And trying to think less. I'll tell you up front that I don't have a goal to post every day, because goals tend to make me, well, not do a thing. But I've been showing up just about every day, so you can expect me to continue to do so. I tried just doing three times a week, and felt like I lost momentum.

I don't know why I'm here, exactly. I mean, I know it's helping me. I feel like it's resuscitating me, post by post, from some long creativity sleep. But beyond that, beyond the fact that I'm enjoying myself, I don't know what I'm trying to do. And I think that's okay.

I mean, I'm enjoying myself, and also feeling very vulnerable most of the time. It's frightening to get on here and post what I really think. And sometimes I post something and walk around for the rest of the day feeling like a fish flopping around on a dock, if you get my meaning. And I think, wait, why am I doing this? I don't have to keep a public journal. No one is begging me to. But I feel like I'm supposed to. So I do it again.

And I guess I'm asking if you'll help. If you'll comment when you like what you're reading. (And I'm the Queen Lurker, so I perhaps don't have a right to ask ....) I've been loving your comments, and trying to respond more to them. Maybe you'll follow me, or add me to your reader? Maybe you'll share posts you enjoy, or tell someone you know who might like reading? I don't really have an agenda here, except that if I'm going to do this, having an audience feels really great.