“I am well aware of the hardship I will be facing. I am the first to admit I am remarkably unqualified for such a hazardous undertaking. But this is precisely the point of my journey. I’d like to think an ordinary person is capable of anything.”
-Robyn Davidson, Tracks
I set myself a challenge.
I’m already falling short.
Isn’t that life?
I’ve challenged myself to write for 30 days.
I am not a very goal oriented person. Usually, I fly by the seat of my pants, fall at the feet of serendipity, or my personal favorite, I wing it.
In my research on how to improve one’s blogging ability, or better blogability, one site suggested planning out a few weeks’ worth of material in advance. I laughed as my heart sank. As a matter of fact, many of the suggestions offered made me cringe a bit. They seemed like expectations that would just suck the life out of what it is I’m trying to do.
I’m just a human, living life, and sharing my experiences. Whether or not people read it, internalize it, that’s their decision. Your decision.
I’ll be honest, part of what inspires me to write the way I do comes from reading people like Donald Miller, Cheryl Strayed, Piero Ferrucci, and others who so deeply convey what it is to be human through their unique, often raw perspectives. It is a rare joy to find an author who so effectively communicates their soul in text. Let’s call it reflective reading. When I finish, there is the dual sense of feeling refreshed and challenged. It inspires me, pushing me to ever greater heights. Without fail, when I finish one of these reflective reads, I find myself thinking, “the world needs more of this.”
More of people being honestly human, and it being okay.
I suppose I one day hope to uncover that writer in myself or at least a fraction of it, so I keep writing. I keep banging away at the keys. Some days it is the single most frustrating thing I sit down to do, which usually results in long stretches of silence that I feel I have to apologize for. Others I feel as though I am nothing more than a raw rush of emotion that constricts my throat and makes me want to burst into pure light. Free and transformed.
It is a blessing, and a curse.
Additionally, another thought has be nagging me. What is my genre? Do I even need one?
In the beginning, it was travel. I suppose it still is, however it has morphed into something else.
I don’t suppose “Life” could be a genre in and of itself?
It is now if it wasn’t before.
However, all that said I am not above learning how to be a better writer, blogger, and conveyer of life. All that it entails.
So today I deviate from my norm and I leave you with a question: are there any tips you would recommend, fellow writers and bloggers? Any insights?
Until next time…I mean tomorrow.