When you write for a blog you should always have someone in mind as your average reader, someone to whom your writer’s voice is speaking to and trying to connect with. Is there someone that you have in mind? Perhaps you drift off to that 10th grade English teacher who once gave you the compliment on your writing and told you to follow your craft. Or maybe you have supportive friends and family who avidly read your works and cheer you on. I can claim both of those things to be true, however I don’t write for them at all.
Some people dream that somehow there will be an editor randomly searching through blogs of poems and short stories and discover the next J. K. Rowling and sweep them off their keyboards and offer them a chance of a lifetime. While those dreams are very worth dreaming, they aren’t mine either.
Writing is a very personal thing for me. I rarely have poems or characters that play in my head, yet there are a few solid stories that sometimes ache to be written. I write from deep down in my soul and pluck out squirming pieces of myself to offer up to my readers. Then I wait truly impatiently for my words and my soul to be judged… daily.
So when I look at my blog and read it over, I ask myself who I would really want to read my blog and what would they think? The answer is simple, I would want ME to read it and enjoy it.
I would want me to sit in front of a warm fireplace, sipping tea, with my laptop and deeply enjoy the words that flow from screen to brain. I would want to know if I actually enjoyed the dancing of words or if I felt they were strained and impossible to digest. I want feedback and conversations, I want to know that at some unforeseen place in time I will look back at these words and feel so satisfied that I spent years of my life writing and it was good.
My 10th grade English teacher has long forgotten that she once called me a natural born writer and inspired me to weave my blanket with words. Yet her words became part of me, just like the love and support I get from my friends and family have given me strength to write about difficult things. But we are all our harshest judge. The reader I write to the most is the critic who wears an older Me’s smile.
Who do YOU write for?