Watching the gray sky slither into a winter’s early darkness, I wonder about the sanity of undertaking the blogger’s world of thought-sharing and soul-baring. I am a quiet person, a keeper of many secrets, a sentinel of private musings and the occasional burst of nostalgic revelry. Am I really made for such a public forum?
I have kept a journal since eighth grade…the year 1991 to be exact. I am in the middle pages of my 27th journal. Over the years, these journals have afforded THE safest place for me to hang out the soiled garments of my thought life, where I have traveled into the misty fog of my mostly insipid thoughts. Who wants to read that? More importantly, would I want anyone to read those things? Absolutely not.
Yet, over this last year, I have discovered an intense need to write more than ever before. The journals have filled so quickly that I am having to buy new ones more often. I joined a local writers’ group back in January which has probably created this deepening need to communicate by writing. However, something has impressed me that I need to write beyond the journal. I have been writing articles for my church’s newsletter, which is satisfying. I may try submitting pieces to other publications. And now I am trying out the bloggers’ thing.
I’m not sure that this is the right venue for me, but the thought (to give it a try) will not leave me alone. Who am I? What could I write that would be of any interest to anyone?
The persisting thought that responds to those questions of skepticism is: just try it, sister, just give it a try.