Although I had no internet for nearly a week I did force myself to keep to my routine of writing on the bus on the way to and from work each day. You’d imagine therefore that I’d now have a stock of really excellent posts, written, re-written with all the clichés removed and then polished like a diamond.
You’d be wrong.
It’s amazing how hard it is to get enthusiastic about writing when you know that nobody is going to read it. We all tell ourselves that we write our blogs just for ourselves and to some extent that is true. I have settled on a particular style of blog (hopefully humorous posts with an occasional sprinkling of ones where I ease some of my mental issues by writing about them) and nothing or nobody will get me to change that style (unless some major company wants to sponsor this blog, in which case I will happily write posts endorsing their product, even if it’s something like panda burgers).
But I know that I have a readership of people who are now friends and when I knew that it was unlikely that any of you would ever see any of what I was writing I found myself listlessly scrawling (if you can do that while typing) my way along, writing more or less anything.
If I’d had Microsoft Doodle (and if there is no such thing, then there should be) I could have filled the page just as effectively, and just as interestingly.
I have to say that I now admire those girls who write their thoughts daily in those little pink diaries with the big locks on the front, determined that absolutely no-one will ever them, at least until after they have died romantically of a broken heart.
Even if all they are writing is “David from across the road smiled at me today” they’re still doing a better job that I was able to do last week.