So, I recently joined BlogMutt because I’m broke and figured $8 for 350 words is better than nothing, even if it’s on spec. After I got approved, I got an email from the owner that actually made me sit down and think.
The actual theme of the email is mostly a goose to actually get me started writing posts, but this part has stuck with me for the better part of a week:
Do you enjoy writing? It’s funny, I’ve been a writer for more than 20 years, and I still don’t enjoy it. I enjoy having written something, but that’s different.
The thing is, I actually do enjoy the process of writing. There’s just something about the tactile experience of my fingers on a keyboard that’s enormously satisfying to me. There’s just something about seeing a blank page fill up with words that I put there. Maybe it’s the childhood thrill of getting to be on a computer—my parents were hardcore proponents of limited computer time until I was in junior high—combined with the college-age drama of being a wicked fast typist and whipping out ten-page papers in six hours or less. (I was and am a MAJOR procrastinator out of sheer laziness. I know they say people procrastinate because they’re perfectionists, but I’m of the better-things-to-do-than-write-on-Don-Quixote school of thought.)
Sometimes writing isn’t fun. Sometimes it’s a major drag and a huge amount of effort goes into a post that I’d be embarrassed to chuck onto Facebook. Sometimes it feels like howling into the void along with thousands of others who’re exponentially more eloquent and interesting than I am.
But I keep doing it. On my blog, on my tumblr, on twitter. Writing is my way of connecting with the world that generally moves too fast for me. I can take the time to edit. I can take the time to find the most perfect way to get what’s in my head onto the page for someone else to consume.
And it blows my mind that there are actually people who seem to want to consume what’s in my head. Thanks, y’all.