I woke up in the middle of the night and a frightening thought occurred to me: I'm blogging!
I realize this is not a concern of the more than 70 million (a number I read somewhere) bloggers out there. Some seem to revel in sharing every thought they have with the world at large. They want people to read everything they write, know every thought that pops into their minds, disclose their daily activities as well as what they've had for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Well, not I.
I have fought blogging for a very long time. In fact, I've fought having anyone I know I write anything for a very long time. I know this sounds crazy. I'm writing and submitting (and sometimes publishing)--why wouldn't I want to draw attention to this? Because for years--since I was a teen, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth--I've written privately. It began as journal entries, poems, essays, etc. Between the ages of thirteen and seventeen I wrote approximately 250 notebook pages of a story that was basically about me and my family. They say, "write what you know" and that's about all I'd known back then. I never shared it with anyone because I was afraid of revealing too much of myself--to my parents, siblings and friends. I was afraid of showing it to my parents and having them think I was crazy, or that I wished my life was different, etc. I tossed this story in the trash before I left for college because I feared my parents would find it when I was away; I didn't take it with me for fear my friends at school would discover it. It saddens me to remember discarding that story. I cried the day I threw it away, a week before I went off to Colorado State. It bothers my mom (especially) because she had no idea I loved writing so much. Now my parents and family are my biggest supporters. I wish I would have shared this side of my life with them a long time ago.
I don't like to spend too much time on regrets, but if I had my life to live over, I'd embrace my love of writing and pursue it as a career. Although, I've given this a lot of thought as well. I know things happen for a reason and for whatever that reason, the powers that be thought it wise to restrain my earlier writing. I often think had I published at a younger age--in my twenties, say--I would have offended others or embarrassed myself. There is a list of writers who popped and fizzled when they were young. I'm grateful not to be on that list. I'm proud to be a "late bloomer" because I'm more emotionally secure and mature to handle what the world throws at me. I hope I don't offend anyone, and I still may embarrass myself, but if I do it won't be as earth-shattering as it might have been years ago.
So here I am...shedding my coat of fear and blogging...sharing my thoughts with the world at large...if anyone is interested.