Scared scared scared-scared SCARED.
Scared of what though? Writing can never hurt me. It should only better my life in some way or another but right now I have a knot in my stomach, acid in my mouth (the taste, not the drug) and an open tab waiting to be blogged in, but I don’t know what to blog about.
I’m so far behind that I feel dirty somehow.
My goal was to blog every day (well, okay, five times per week) this summer but the fun of it is somehow slipping away. I guess because it’s stopped being about me and my rant-writing and suddenly it’s about providing informative content and meeting word count goals and the number of followers I can accumulate.
I’ve put quite a lot of pressure on myself and, ironically, that’s sort of made me less productive.
Initially blogging was about generating an audience so that I could use it to my advantage when I start writing in a professional capacity; then it became about improving my writing and keeping practised and that’s when it kind of became real for me. That’s when I became a blogger.
But now I’m back to taking it very seriously and giving myself deadlines and then beating myself up for missing them.
In summary, I think I need to lighten up a bit.
I still want to blog daily (well, okay, again, five times per week) but lately I haven’t been managing it. I’m thinking now that maybe I should somewhat retreat back to my old ways of blogging my free-writing, but only part-time.
Now that I’m taking up YouTube as well, I need a more coherent schedule.
- Monday – content blog.
- Wednesday – vlog.
- Friday – content blog.
- Tuesday and Thursday – free-writing blog (or none at all, if I need a day off).
- Saturday and Sunday – whatever the heck I want!
I might try out this schedule for a week or so and see if it alleviates any of the pressure that I’ve put on myself (of course, this is all going to go up in flames as soon as Camp NaNoWriMo starts anyway, but let’s ignore that for now). Because at the moment I’m spending too much time feeling stressed and guilty and it’s only further impeding my output. It’s the most vicious of vicious cycles.
I’m now remembering my first report card from secondary school in first year; the hand-written note left by my French teacher, Ms Murphy: “Very serious. Relax a little!” It seems like I haven’t changed much in the twelve years that have passed since then. Maybe it’s about time I take her advice.