There are times when you stumble on stuff by accident. Instead of moving along, some invisible string of sorts keeps drawing you back trying to make a connection.
I recently joined Medium – I know right, it’s exhausting – and I’ve been feeling some kind of way. I’m yet to place my finger on it. No wait, Nostalgia? Then I read a bit of Uche’s blog. Went on Facebook by accident and found Sanmi’s revamped blog. This is someone that inspired my first WordPress in the beginning. He opened one, I followed religiously and thought, Hey! I can do this!
All three sites have something in common. What I call sincere passionate writing. No one gives a heck what you write on Medium, people just read, write and recommend as long as it’s coherent. The other time, just after reading Uche’s blog, I commented on how I loved her writing and how I used to write like that. Unabashedly. Since then, I’ve been trying to return to that place – where it all started for me and it’s been difficult.
I always say there’s a difference between writing and blogging. While trying to make sense of how I got to this place, I realised that I had let my job slip into this space. I had become a blogger. I don’t know what changed. The domain maybe? It suddenly felt so official, obligatory and less of a passion. I had to push out content regularly so that my non-existent audience (No offence, Berry) could have something to read. It felt more like a chore. A routine. Something I had to do every Sunday night.
When I opened my first blog, I found a way to convince myself that I wrote for the audience of one: Myself. That was the only way I could write without feeling the need for validation. I didn’t think about page views, insights, analytics and whatnot. They were non-existent. It worked while it lasted despite the fact that WordPress is a large community. Everyone stumbles on any one’s blog by chance. I could bare my thoughts without reservations.
That basically inspired the tagline : my thoughts and everything in between which has recently changed to finding my voice because to be honest, it’s not about my thoughts anymore and I’m really trying to find my voice as a writer.
I want to go back there. I’m desperately craving that place. Unfortunately, journalling did not help. It did for a while but since it’s not a habit, it slipped away. Plus my hand writing’s become terrible. I really can’t stand it. Then again, maybe I can finally find my voice. Maybe those experiences I will write about will help discover myself again. It looks like I’ve figured what I want at this stage of my life so there’s less of discovering. I spent the latter part of my teenage years doing all of that. I’m not exactly struggling or anything. Rather I’m taking it one day at a time.
Now that I’ve written this – it only felt right. Plus it actually signifies the commencement of something. Somehow, I feel like this might be a great collection of memoirs when I finally have the guts to write one.
But first, I need to take down some of these plug-ins.