I just wrote about my blogging history when I realised I’d rather write about making mistakes. More specifically, what happens when you don’t allow yourself to make mistakes as a blogger. I’m not very well versed in making them, as I’ve never given myself the chance to.
Instead of posting consistently to the same blog, I’ve been migrating from blog to blog since I was thirteen. My hope was that the next platform would inspire me to actually keep posting, but of course it never did. When you’re paralysed at the thought of making mistakes, you don’t keep posting. Instead you might do what I did, which was to create a fresh start for myself each time my old words felt stale and uninspired. And they always, always did after a very short amount of time.
Even though they still do, I don’t migrate as much anymore. Instead I keep silent. What’s the point in posting when I’ll be embarrassed by what I write immediately after I’ve written it?
I’d call that embarrassment growth, but growth happens over time. This was me wanting to be better before I actually was. I didn’t want those clunky sentences and the obvious self-consciousness to represent me, but that’s where I was. That’s the way I wrote. I just couldn’t face the level my writing was at, and my inner critic made sure I knew right after (and often during) writing.
So I was denied the blogging mistakes almost everyone makes and grows from, like not carving out a clear enough niche and not connecting with other bloggers, because I couldn’t keep a blog long enough to make them. I really wanted to be seen for the good, but couldn’t stand the thought of people seeing the bad.
Thing is, I really, really want to correct this. This time around I want to weather the discomfort like a friggin’ cactus in a sandstorm. I’ll live with bad to mediocre writing and try to become a serious blogger in the process.
Consistent blogging, here I come.
(If you want to try the same thing, please do let me know. Company is awesome.)