I thought I’d come back to blogging in a slow and deliberate way, writing unhurried essays that would reflect my contemplative observation, and precise editing. I thought that this slow blogging would be good for me, and safe, and not a distraction from my focus on health, family, job.
Writing is hard work. Any good book about writing will tell you that right up front.
I may tell myself that I’m a writer, dammit, a natural-born blogger, but I’m not writing the way I want to, or when, or enough. Truthfully, I’ve been scared to write. Hesitant to get out of my own head.
“You don’t like to talk,” Erin said to me one night. We were discussing friendships and communities, and trying to figure out how I might make more time for friends, and make that time more satisfying for them. I’m a great listener, and ask good, conversation-prompting questions, but I don’t open up enough.
Back in our Blogging101 days, when we were teaching people how to blog, we encouraged regularity in writing. Reading the Without Bullshit blog, where Josh Bernoff writes most days, I’ve been reminded by how short, regular blog posts can be insightful, entertaining, informative and crafted well. And, it helps that Bernoff is blogging to help others write well — without jargon and weasel words and, well, bullshit. “Good writing is clear, brief, and not boring,” he says.
As I trained for the Austin Marathon (and next month’s American Tobacco Trail Marathon), I ran often, I kept my strides short, and I talked to myself, about writing and talking more. I talked myself into a new blogging strategy, one more similar to my running routine: write often, write short, write conversationally.
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