I am struggling to understand why it’s easy for me to write in a journal every day, yet so hard to write about the same topics on this blog.
When I write privately to myself words and ideas flow. I seldom edit anything, and since I write on paper doing so would be impractical. It’s light, devoid of consequences and worries. Sometimes it’s disorganized or barely makes sense. And yet I enjoy the process and the product.
When I write for this blog I obsess over each word. I’m tense. I edit, rewrite, reorganize, rethink. I convince myself that my ideas aren’t interesting or are incorrect to justify giving up on them. I abandon a shameful draft or a blank page.
Having searched my soul I think it comes down to self-consciousness. Which leads me to crippling perfectionism. Which leads to nothing getting published for months at a time.
But I do want to write. And I do want to share. It’s hard to offer something personal and imperfect to the judgment of others. But it might help me let go of my ego. And perhaps other self-conscious beings will find comfort in my imperfections.