I Am in a Rut · 2 April 2016
There are times when I think I ought to just quit writing. Or at least quit blogging.
I could not give up writing all together. It is too much a part of who I am. I sometimes just think that blogging is not my thing. That I have bigger fish to fry. It is not that I look down on blogging or bloggers. I just feel that I have more to write than these snippets of life.
To be sure, I know that I am no Poe or Twain or Dumas. The stories and verses I write would probably make the greats cringe. But I still write.
The thing is that I sometimes wonder if blogging is just a phase for me. I am not going to be Erma Bombeck or Dave Barry. I am not complaining. I just know that while my little niche could have universal appeal to the everyman of the world, it does not reach even close to every man. Or every woman.
I guess I am just not much of a marketer or a promoter.
Sometimes, I think that blogging takes up too much of my time. That it is taking me away from the projects that I really want to do. I have so many stories that are trying to get out. I have so many projects that are waiting to get done. Some to just get started. But I cannot blame my blog. After all, even though I spend quite a bit of time on each post, there are some that just come. Some that just write themselves. So I cannot use my blog as an excuse for not getting the other projects done.
In reality, I think I want to be a snooty writer. I want to write highfalutin mumbo jumbo and be great in the eyes of critics. Or at least I used to.
I used to think that I had to write in such a way as to impress my readers with my knowledge and usage of the English language. I wanted to write sentences with lots of prepositional phrases. I even wanted to start half my sentences with prepositional phrases. But alas. I could not keep it up. Being pretentious is not my thing.
But neither is being a lowbrow.
I cannot string together even two swear words in a sentence. I cannot use coarse descriptors. My writing may not be beautiful, but neither is it vulgar. I love the written word. I love language too much.
When I first started this blogging thing, I never figured I would be obscure for long. I imagined I would be a highfalutin columnist sought by newspapers and magazine editors alike. I could see myself as the next Bombeck or Barry. I never dreamed of obscurity or disillusionment. I never dreamed that just my family and friends would like my facebook page. I never dreamed that I would only have two real readers (as my two friends, M&M, like to point out).
Then again, I never really started my blog to be famous. I just wanted an avenue to write. I just wanted a place to get out a body of work. I just wanted to practice my craft and maybe have a few pieces make the pages of local newspapers. And I have done all that. I have been published outside of my own website. I have gathered a modest following. And I have certainly created a body of work. And more importantly, I have proven to myself that I am indeed a writer. Maybe not a very good writer. But I am a writer.
So I will keep blogging. Even if it is just for a few real and imaginary readers. I will keep putting out drivel or whatever it is that I produce. And I will keep believing that I am a writer. Who knows? Maybe someday the rest of the world will agree with me.
When I finally become a real writer, I suppose I might give up blogging. Then again, by then, I will not want to quit writing. Much less blogging.
© 2016 Michael T. Miyoshi
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