On Failing at Blogging…Again and Again

11270246_10102089886048537_4918228426728632734_o

Look at today’s date. Then look at the date of my previous blog post. Look back again. That is right. It’s been close to a year since I updated this thing. I don’t know if it’s the longest blogging hiatus I’ve ever taken, but it’s for sure not the first one and the ones before it were also month-long affairs.


I may be good at many things. Hell, I’m even quite good at writing things. Things that include fiction chapters, first-person essays, books reviews, dumb Facebook jokes. I’m even ok at blogging…as long as it’s not here.

When it comes to my personal site, I’m a total and complete failure.

So why now? What makes the oh 575th revamp of my blog different from all the other ones? What delusional belief do I hold that tells me this is going to be the format that sticks?

To be honest, I haven’t the faintest idea. Of all my writing projects, this is by far the most Sisyphean of them all. What I can say is that in the past year I’ve grown a lot in terms of my craft. And there are two lessons that I think have seeped in, like the slow oozing slime they are:

  1. Output is more important than quality. At least in the beginning stages.
  2. Disciplines is more important than anything. At any stage.

I’ve seen this in all aspects of my writing life, but let’s simply use Live Lit as an example. When I began taking storytelling classes at StoryStudio, I was forced to write at least one piece every week. Most of them sucked. Most of them ran way too long. It didn’t matter though. Because the important thing was to show up there with something to share. The more I shared, the more feedback I got, the sharper my stories became. Once I was out of the comforts of a classroom, I said yes to any storytelling opportunity that came my way. The more opportunities I got, the more I wrote, the more confident I felt about getting up on that stage.

This is not rocket science. It’s not even one of those soft sciences your parents warn you against majoring in. It is so utterly obvious in its simplicity. But almost every writer I know struggles with it. We want to unlock some secret, some Da Vinci Code-type conspiracy that will make what we’re embarking upon easier. But the only thing that makes writing easier is more writing.

But back to the blog. How is this going to impact this forgotten corner of the cyberuniverse, ignored even by its creator AKA me?

I’m no longer going to put pressure on it. For a while, mostly because I was in a professional pit of despair, I saw this outlet as another card in my hand to gamble. Because of that, I would try out all these zany ideas in the hopes that something, anything, would transform me into the viral sensation I was obviously meant to be.

No more. This will be an end in itself. A place where I can ramble on about my writing life for a couple of times each month. No strategy. No branding. No hidden agenda.

 

Advertisements