Alright so I’m not Pinocchio, but dropping the .wordpress and converting to a custom domain does make me feel like a real blogger. My content hasn’t changed, my layout is the same but I’m suddenly feeling so much more legitimate, like I now need a homepage and a more frequent posting schedule to match. Is this how people become prolific bloggers? Do they decide this is the blog they’re sticking with, buy a domain and find themselves needing to justify that decision if only to themselves? Because that’s how I’m feeling. Who knew all it would take to get me to commit and write more was $26 and a .com. When I started this blog as a way to fight my pervasive writer’s block with random tangents and snippets of whatever, I hadn’t expected it to become a thing I actively made time to work on.
I never really planned on being a real blogger and I honestly thought I’d post one or two things and completely forget about it as I have with all other writing platforms in the past. But then…without warning or reason, I had followers. People watching my little corner of the internet with interest and the expectation that I’d do something with it. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and, above all, motivated.
I think one of the worst things about writing a book (or trying to, anyway) is the constant self doubt. It’s always needing to tell myself that someone somewhere will actually want to read it, trying to convince myself that it’s not just going to end up another badly written, bargain store paperback to be mocked and forgotten. Leslie Sinclair wrote a great post about the necessary delusion involved in wanting to be an author (and how that translates to dating) and I think she’s absolutely right.
The thing about a blog though is that it provides immediate validation, it’s you guys giving me proof that I’m doing something right enough for people to keep reading. Like maybe my entire life ambition isn’t completely insane. And that is worth a hell of a lot more than the $26 it cost to convince myself of my own commitment. So thank you.