Now that I've obsessively analyzed the crap out of my blog statistics, I have the sneaky suspicion that the only folks visiting my blog of late are a trio o' fellow bloggers (Mama, Erin, & Shell), people I know in real life, and people who accidentally stumble across my blog while searching for AWESOME NOSTRIL pics on Google Images.
Which is fine. I'm grateful anyone reads my mad ramblings. And it's a lot of fun to entertain folks you know.
But on the other hand...
Bloggers live for comments. (Or maybe that's just me.) Otherwise blogging is a monologue.
And I can talk to myself any old time! (It's one of the perks of being nuts.)
I like making people laugh. I always have. When Nature Boy was a baby, I went to a New Age-y retreat where I discovered that my "essence" is joy. Bringing joy to other people (preferably through Joy's crazier twin, Mirth) is one of my "life purposes". Deep stuff, that. (*Insert eye roll here.*)
Anyhoo, I like blogging, but I wish it was more interactive. Like Facebook. Does this make me a self-absorbed attention hound?
Mayhap. But no more so than any other blogger.
There are lots of reasons that folks blog. Some of us are just extroverts who need a platform. Some of us are all angsty and need a blog to work out all the complicated feelings squished up in our heads. Some of us are aspiring writers and blogs are great practice grounds. Some of us are lonely and find connection through the blogging community. Some of us just want to keep a record of our days for ourselves and our loved ones.
I want to entertain. To bring people joy. To do my little part to balance out the stress and the crap we shovel every day.
But I also want to write.
Really write. A book, even. People have been telling me I should write a book for years, but I've never had the confidence. I have a title and an outline, but that's as far as I got before I freaked out and put my spiral notebook away.
I freaked out because I am afraid to fail.
If I don't write a book, I can always think, "I could've written a book." If I do write one and it's a flop, I will have to say, "I tried and failed."
Why is failure so threatening? It's not even my greatest fear. It's nothing compared to loss, and I've survived that.
Has there been a time in your life when you took a deep breath and stepped out in faith to follow a dream? How did you get over your fear?
