Poor little blog. Like a poor second child. Or actually, at the moment, more like a distant cousin. Twice removed. I want to keep in contact, but I’m just finding it so hard.
What on earth could I possibly write about that people would want to hear?
But I do write. I’m more committed to this blog than any other project I’ve ever had. I write. But blogging isn’t all about the writing. It should be of course but it isn’t. Because what’s the point in writing if there’s no one there to read it? Blogging is huge amounts of publicising. Getting the words out there and in front of people. Those who do this game well aren’t always the best writers with the most original, funny, touching, clever or thought provoking content (although some are of course), no, it’s the ones who push and push and push. The ones who have this social media game figured out. The ones who make the networks and the connections and build the ‘love’ almost to the point that what they say comes second.
And I admire these people so much. These business minded folk who know how to make every possible opportunity work for them.
I’m just not them.
I write something. It’s usually something I want to say, not something people want to hear. And then I send it into the world. Alone. Unsupported. With no one cheering it on. No support team showing it off, pushing it forward. I let it drift. And I move on.
Much as I’ve lived a lot of my life.
I’ve always thrown my energy into the ether and walked away. When things get hard, my instinct is to shrug and change direction. They talk about life imitating art. I’m pretty sure my blog is art imitating life.
Or at least my life before Oscar.
He changed everything. Suddenly here’s this thing, this other life, that I can’t move on from. And I can’t tell you how hard that’s been for me. Some days I’ve been so ready to run. But I don’t. I can’t. But more than that, I choose not to. Against all my judgement I choose to keep going. Even when every fibre of me screams to make the choice to walk away walk, I choose not to.
Because it is a choice. Even on the days when it feels like a choice between a rock and hard place. It’s a choice.
I stay
I push forward
And I keep writing
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