Recently my dad told me to “write boldly”. It really made me think, and questions why I write a blog.
There are many people with many more followers. People who get many comments on each post they write. Then there’s me, just muddling along. I get excited when I get one comment on a post that I write! But you know what? I don’t write to get followers or comments, not that I mind either of those things. I write for myself.
It took me years to realize something about myself. I’m a writer at heart. It always amuses me, because my mom is a medical biller, and my dad is an engineer. My sister and I are both writers. In a previous life I was a reporter, and though I don’t write now, it’s in by blood, and I have to write.
It really isn’t anything I ever thought about. Growing up I never thought to myself, I want to be a writer when I grow up, and yet I am. Even now, when I say I’m a writer, I almost feel odd, because to me a writer is someone who publishes books, and is famous.
And yet, I am a writer.
Writing brought me my husband. I was working at a coffee shop, and I wasn’t getting my writing fix, so I started an online, text-based game. The result? A wonderful friend who was in our wedding, and my wonderful husband. Shortly after we started dating, I got the reporter job, and my writing desire was fulfilled, again.
When I went back to school I wasn’t writing, though I was focused on my school work, so I suppose I was distracted. After I graduated, I was home, alone, and bored. I turned to writing, and started a blog.
Writing is in my blood. I have to do it. I’ve been told that I’m a good writer, but I don’t see it. I just write, the words flow, and I feel better. It’s a part of me, and it always has been. While I love knowing that people read what I write (any writer does, I suppose) the most important thing for me is simply to write. To let the words flow. No matter what I’m doing it my life, in either my vocation or my avocation, I need to write.
I’m a writer.