Writing and putting it out for others to see has been a challenging and painful experience for me.
The challenging part is fun. I'm pushing myself to write which pushes me to dig around in my brain for new words and ways to arrange them in sentences so that when I look at them I feel balanced and relaxed, like visual feng shui. When I write something, not just here, I spend time adjusting them on the page so that the actual reading of it makes sense to me. Should paragraphs be indented or should they just skip a line and be blocks of words? Then, when I read them aloud, they have to have a certain rhythm that pleases my ear. Some words are better because they add to the musicality of the sentence. Some sentences are better because they add to the musicality of the whole piece. Syllables matter. The sounds of words together matter. Don't get me started on the placement of commas.
I love this challenging part. I think everyone has something that calms and energizes them and this is mine. I love written words. They are beautiful and powerful to me. I have favorite sentences from things I've read. "Like fall leaves that before a wild hurricane fly...." is a favorite line from The Night Before Christmas. "He kissed me like he knew who I was" is my newest favorite from a book I just read. Any sentence written by my sister in law, Sue Eberhardt, is poetry. Even the phrase from the Princess Bride "Know this...." gives me a thrill. Then there's Anne Lamott who is a word alchemist, taking words and putting them together changing them into balm that soothes my heart.
When I tell you this, I'm telling you a very personal thing about me. I'm letting you in on my secret that I live in my head a large amount of the time. I don't talk as much as I used to, believe it or not, so I have the dialog going on inside instead of outside. When sharing what I've been thinking about I've been asked, "Do you always think so much?" Well, yeah, what else would I be doing when I'm alone and in my head?
The painful part is when I put it out for others to read. I hate that I'm dependent on what others think about me. I hate that I want to know if others read my stuff. Nobody owes me anything. Writing is my pleasure, so why do I even care what others think? I check for comments and likes. I'm thrilled when someone writes a comment or lets me know they read my Facebook posts. I really appreciate it when that happens, and it does happen with every post. I'm on top of the world. I go back and check again. No more comments?! I'm disappointed. Maybe that means that what I wrote doesn't matter if more and more people don't let me know they read it. My name is Kathryn and I'm a praise addict. I hate that about me. This is another part of me that I'm letting you see. My husband knows about it - I'm like a vampire trying to pass as normal, hiding my fangs as best as I can, the pointy teeth piercing my tongue every once in a while just to remind me that they're ready to bite. I can feel them in my mouth but if I let others see them they will see me for who I really am.
It brings me pleasure and comfort to see the words on the page, so why publish them on the internet? One of my sons said, "Starting a blog is narcissistic," and he's right. I've even said that. I used to just write and send it to people I know who love me. This is like poking myself repeatedly in the eye with a pointy stick.
Why am I writing this? Because my head is full and I can't do anything until I get the words out and on paper. I'm rethinking this whole blog thing.
The challenging part is fun. I'm pushing myself to write which pushes me to dig around in my brain for new words and ways to arrange them in sentences so that when I look at them I feel balanced and relaxed, like visual feng shui. When I write something, not just here, I spend time adjusting them on the page so that the actual reading of it makes sense to me. Should paragraphs be indented or should they just skip a line and be blocks of words? Then, when I read them aloud, they have to have a certain rhythm that pleases my ear. Some words are better because they add to the musicality of the sentence. Some sentences are better because they add to the musicality of the whole piece. Syllables matter. The sounds of words together matter. Don't get me started on the placement of commas.
I love this challenging part. I think everyone has something that calms and energizes them and this is mine. I love written words. They are beautiful and powerful to me. I have favorite sentences from things I've read. "Like fall leaves that before a wild hurricane fly...." is a favorite line from The Night Before Christmas. "He kissed me like he knew who I was" is my newest favorite from a book I just read. Any sentence written by my sister in law, Sue Eberhardt, is poetry. Even the phrase from the Princess Bride "Know this...." gives me a thrill. Then there's Anne Lamott who is a word alchemist, taking words and putting them together changing them into balm that soothes my heart.
When I tell you this, I'm telling you a very personal thing about me. I'm letting you in on my secret that I live in my head a large amount of the time. I don't talk as much as I used to, believe it or not, so I have the dialog going on inside instead of outside. When sharing what I've been thinking about I've been asked, "Do you always think so much?" Well, yeah, what else would I be doing when I'm alone and in my head?
The painful part is when I put it out for others to read. I hate that I'm dependent on what others think about me. I hate that I want to know if others read my stuff. Nobody owes me anything. Writing is my pleasure, so why do I even care what others think? I check for comments and likes. I'm thrilled when someone writes a comment or lets me know they read my Facebook posts. I really appreciate it when that happens, and it does happen with every post. I'm on top of the world. I go back and check again. No more comments?! I'm disappointed. Maybe that means that what I wrote doesn't matter if more and more people don't let me know they read it. My name is Kathryn and I'm a praise addict. I hate that about me. This is another part of me that I'm letting you see. My husband knows about it - I'm like a vampire trying to pass as normal, hiding my fangs as best as I can, the pointy teeth piercing my tongue every once in a while just to remind me that they're ready to bite. I can feel them in my mouth but if I let others see them they will see me for who I really am.
It brings me pleasure and comfort to see the words on the page, so why publish them on the internet? One of my sons said, "Starting a blog is narcissistic," and he's right. I've even said that. I used to just write and send it to people I know who love me. This is like poking myself repeatedly in the eye with a pointy stick.
Why am I writing this? Because my head is full and I can't do anything until I get the words out and on paper. I'm rethinking this whole blog thing.