True Confessions of a Not-So-Famous Blogger

True Confessions of a Not-So-Famous Blogger

In the very wee hours of the morning, as I was mulling over (and over) a few blog post ideas that were swirling around inside my head, the proverbial light bulb clicked on and I was faced with the realization that I am not your average blogger.

This all began at 5:21 a.m. this morning, when I woke up to write the words to a poem I have been working on all week. I have never gotten out of bed to write something down - ever - but I will do so from now on.

Anyhow, as I tried to fall back to sleep, writing thoughts kept popping in my head. Then my creative thoughts turned to a self-assessment of why it takes me forever to write a blog post. A lot of ideas come to me at inopportune moments - like while in the shower (soap crayons for notes?) or while I am trying to sleep. So it doesn't help that I can't remember the complete book I have written while shampooing my hair. But I digress.

But it has been bothering me that I can't stop what I am doing, fire off a quick post, share it for the world to see and dive back in to life. I see bloggers churn out post after post and my feelings of inadequacy take over in my head, like a mushroom cloud that forms when the dust rises after a bomb detonates. How do they do what I can't seem to do? 

Apparently, I am just not wired that way. I need a long, well-thought process, inspiration, and more thinking.

Maybe I put too much thought into my writing. Maybe it is more of an artistic, therapeutic, method of madness than anything else. Most bloggers have a theme - fashion, finance, parenting, grand-parenting, food, diseases, going-green. Not me - my ramblings cover it ALL! Why make it easier on myself, and just go with one idea?! Why can't I just write, post and publish? No, I have to develop an outline, then write a  first-draft, a second draft, let it "simmer," re-read, and scrap it all and start over again, then have my husband and daughters read for content (then for check errors if I decide to publish). Except for today. Oh, and then I have to take the perfect picture to accompany the text...

That's why (a good excuse, anyway) I don't have a blog post up on a regular basis. And so that is why SEOs and Google searches and others haven't found me yet. I am at the mercy of my artistic self that is bucking the algorithms of digital success.

As I tried to go back to sleep, by now it is 5:55 a.m., I became more comfortable in the realization that I am a not-so-typical blogger. And, if there are other bloggers that go through this insane process, then maybe, just maybe, they will appreciate my new-found descriptive category:  "The Starving Artist Blogger."

Not that I write about fine art - yet (just give me time...why not add another category!) - but each post that I write has to be inspired. It may be about parenting, or it may be about knitting or faith or grief or a recipe or a news event or what ever speaks to my heart. Like painters who see something that speaks to them, and then express their feelings onto canvas, I see or hear something that speaks to me, and have to write about it. Eventually.

An artist takes their time to get everything just right - the colors, the textures, the mood, the lighting. One can't just create without a thought process. Hours are spent visualizing and thinking and sketching.

And I do the same thing. But with words. I am sure people think I am aloof, but there are times that I am writing in my head as I stand in line at the grocery store. Maybe I sound like an airhead when I mix up the words that I am trying to speak, but it's only because on the other side of my brain, I am trying to keep the words for my essay alive in my head until I can grab a pad of paper and a pen and jot it all down.

Currently, my "art"studio is my laptop in the corner of our home office, with a stash of yarn peeking out from behind a filing cabinet. It isn't real inspiring, at the moment, which is why I haven't painted the next Mona Lisa or developed a great knitting pattern - yet. However, in my artist brain, I will one day have the perfect studio cottage, where it is summer year-round, filled with books and paints and pencils and fabric and a little kitchenette stocked with essentials like coffee, tea, chocolate and wine. The summer breezes will gently dance with the gauzy draperies covering the big picture window that offers a view of a lake. My herb garden will be in full bloom, and I will be writing my novel as my painting dries on a vintage art stand in the corner.

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