I’ve always blogged – or rather, it feels like I’ve always blogged. And lately, I’ve been applying pressure on myself to take of words and books and make it more … well, coherent. Professional. Polished. Rife with blog series and regular blog posts. But – as you might have noticed by its echoing absence … that’s not what is happening here.
I love to express myself with words. (Don’t we all?) But more specifically, written words. I’ve got piles and piles of diaries going back to before I could spell. (To be honest, nothing much has changed there. Oh well. We can’t all be perfect.)
Blogs – this blog – has been my playground and I want to go back to having fun. I’ve got so many blog posts in drafts and I haven’t posted them because:
- they’re not complete
- I haven’t had the energy to tidy them up and make them presentable
Instead of trying to make sure that each blog post is perfect – which, haha, it never is – I’ve decided to relax. To enjoy it.
This isn’t the way I make my living. Nothing much depends on it save my own enjoyment and – possibly and hopefully – yours. It’s a place to write about what I read and how I read and when I read and what I write and what colour my toenails are and what I had for breakfast and all that sort of thing.
Any pressure – however misplaced – I put on myself, tends to ground any project to a halt. Pressure and I don’t like each other. If I met Pressure on the street, I would not say ‘good morning’ to it. I would glare at it.
I’m home from Moldova now. I’m working. I’ve slowed down my freelance work because well, there’s only so many hours in the day and I’d much rather torture my own characters than describe someone else’s book.
So, here’s to a few more blog posts appearing here. Less pressure. More fun. Here’s to expressing yourself in whatever way you like. To late nights and early mornings and peppermint tea and the sun shining through afternoon rain and the tap-tap-tap of a keyboard and the curl of black ink on a white page.
happy reading and happy writing and happy living.