When I first began posting to a blog, there wasn’t exactly a specific post I planned to write.
My first post was an introduction, which I covered in earlier posts. Before I thought about blogging, I had my writing tucked away for no-one to see. It was quite Dickinson of me, I think – Emily Dickinson apparently wrote all her poems and hid them away, and they were published posthumously.
I decided that sounded rather sad. I didn’t want my scribblings to fade away in desk drawers, only to be published seventy years from now.
(Sorry for the name-dropping)
My friend-person suggested, rather emphatically, that I begin posting for people to read. After some time, I did, and the response wasn’t bad. Another friend-shape encouraged me and listened patiently to every report I had, every time I reported a like or follow – I soon stopped that though.
The nerves raced through my system with my first posts. I hunched over the computer, editing here and there. I hovered over Publish for a minute, then clicked. Nothing exploded, the world didn’t end, and everything was OK. That day, I learned that trying something new can be fun. It still is.
I went to bed that night still giddy with the thought that I’d done something a little unusual for me – I do not do well with being in the public eye, in any way, and wondered about the topic of my next post.
I don’t think I’ll do this again – starting a new blog – so now I have to look around for my next unusual-for-me activity.