seventy.
Three years ago today, on my laptop in a one-bedroom apartment near the beach, I started this blog. I had no idea what I would say, or why I needed a blog, but I felt compelled to write consistently, and write with the courage to share my writing with the world. Along the way I had a few bumps: months of fear when I felt I had nothing to write, days of self-doubt when I wondered if I shouldn't be writing so honestly, moments of panic when I thought nobody was reading.
So much has changed since that first post. Someone else lives in that one-bedroom apartment near the beach. I lost a few people I loved, and I married my best friend. I got published again, and then again, and I started new blogs. I moved away, and I moved back, and I discovered more and more about who I really am and what I hope to do in the time I have on this earth.
But one thing hasn't changed: the reason I write. In that first post I wrote:
As I write, submit, teach, connect, and change, I hope I learn to accept everything with grace...and leave a little grace behind.
This desire continues to drive my decision to write about something (or not write about something). It quietly reminds me that if I'm not writing from a calm, reflective, grateful place, then I might not be ready to write (there are 23 unfinished drafts).
Each time I write a post I feel like a mother sending her kid off to the first day of school, shouting after him, "Do your best today!" while hoping kids will play with him, fearing that nobody will like him. The beauty of the blog is that it doesn't actually have feelings, but I do. I share them in my writing and wait expectantly for those things we all so desperately want: validation, encouragement, acceptance, praise. Sometimes I get them; sometimes I don't. But what I get every time is a new piece of writing, another 500, 1000, or 2000 words that are all my own, that I can go back and read when I need reminding that I am, in fact, a writer.
This is my 70th post, and I think I've continued to do what I set out to do. I don't have the most readers in the blog world. I don't sell advertising space or get mentioned in articles about influential bloggers. I write what I see, what I think, what I feel, and I share it with you. When I re-read that first post from three years ago, it seems like that's all I ever really wanted to do.
So thank you, readers. And thank you, sea salt. Do your best today.
So much has changed since that first post. Someone else lives in that one-bedroom apartment near the beach. I lost a few people I loved, and I married my best friend. I got published again, and then again, and I started new blogs. I moved away, and I moved back, and I discovered more and more about who I really am and what I hope to do in the time I have on this earth.
But one thing hasn't changed: the reason I write. In that first post I wrote:
As I write, submit, teach, connect, and change, I hope I learn to accept everything with grace...and leave a little grace behind.
This desire continues to drive my decision to write about something (or not write about something). It quietly reminds me that if I'm not writing from a calm, reflective, grateful place, then I might not be ready to write (there are 23 unfinished drafts).
Each time I write a post I feel like a mother sending her kid off to the first day of school, shouting after him, "Do your best today!" while hoping kids will play with him, fearing that nobody will like him. The beauty of the blog is that it doesn't actually have feelings, but I do. I share them in my writing and wait expectantly for those things we all so desperately want: validation, encouragement, acceptance, praise. Sometimes I get them; sometimes I don't. But what I get every time is a new piece of writing, another 500, 1000, or 2000 words that are all my own, that I can go back and read when I need reminding that I am, in fact, a writer.
This is my 70th post, and I think I've continued to do what I set out to do. I don't have the most readers in the blog world. I don't sell advertising space or get mentioned in articles about influential bloggers. I write what I see, what I think, what I feel, and I share it with you. When I re-read that first post from three years ago, it seems like that's all I ever really wanted to do.
So thank you, readers. And thank you, sea salt. Do your best today.