Image by Miss Millificent via Flickr
The next round of the Insecure Writer's Support Group is coming up this Wednesday. Today's post might sound like my contribution to this amazingly successful blog hop that Alex J. Cavanaugh started a few months back, but it's not. Call this post a prelude, part one, or just the question that's probably on many of our minds much of the time.
When I was in fourth grade we were given an assignment to write a description of a picture prompt that our teacher gave us. Mrs. Kingston, our teacher, raved about my work and was so impressed that she mounted my handwritten paragraph on a large piece of yellow construction paper along with the picture that prompted the assignment and sent it around to all of the classes in the school to be read as an example of good writing. It was then posted on a bulletin board near the office for all to see.
Last year I found that writing sample. It was not all that good, but I guess for fourth grade work I can see what the teacher saw in it. What this experience did for me however was to whet my desire to be read by others. I felt a certain sense of honor that my writing had been read by someone else and had achieved a sort of acclaim. Then, more than ever before in my young writing life, I had a desire to write and to be read.
When I write, I try to say something that will somehow touch others or give them pause to reflect on something I've said. I feel an obligation to write as well as I can and to write better with each new piece I write. Even if it is an email or a comment, I attempt to say what I'm saying in a manner that displays some degree of quality. Okay, I'm probably a hack in many ways, but I try.
In the earliest days of this blog, I went for weeks wondering if anyone was out there reading my words. Eventually, through the efforts of my commenting, I drew readers to hear what I had to say. But if I had never left a comment on another blog would anyone have ever read what I had written? My mother would have and sometimes my kids and a few friends might have.
I'll admit that I'm floundering and tossing it out there to you who are reading this post--if anyone is reading it. Sometimes I question why I write these blog posts. I guess it's a compulsion of sorts. I feel a need to fulfill my personal commitment to post on my assigned days. It's not a job and I've set my own bars for accomplishment. It basically comes down to the why I write question that I touched upon in my post of a couple weeks ago. If I write, who will read it and why?
I'm sure that I'll touch upon this topic again someday unless it becomes something I no longer think about. However, as long as I continue writing I'm sure the question will nag at some part of me. I hope to eventually have a book published, but I wonder who would read it. I think a big part of the answer to that question is up to me.
Who reads your writing? Do you faithfully maintain a blog schedule even if you don't feel like posting any content? What milestone in your life convinced you that you wanted to write for others to read?
Let's see who reads this: I'd like to surprise another blogger who I doubt will read this. I'm asking any of you who don't mind to go to the Heim Binas Fiction blog on Wednesday and wish her a happy birthday. For her birthday she's asking for bloggers to share a favorite song by linking to it, quoting lyrics or whatever. I think she'd be thrilled to hear from you.