It was probably just an ordinary Tuesday for you, but today marked a year since I wrote my first post on The View from Goose Hill blog. (Well, actually, I wrote my first post on Leap Day, but close enough.) I was scared on that day I published the first post—scared of being one more echo in the Internet’s noisy chasm.
Blogging is lonely work. You sit down on the Internet, surrounded by millions or billions of other voices (because everyone has a blog), and you start typing, start talking like a street preacher in Times Square. And no one is stopping to listen—or at least that’s how you feel when you look at your blog stats. There are so many other things for people to hear. And it gets discouraging fast!
This year, writing on Goose Hill has helped me define my purpose for writing, to find my north. The needle is still a bit wobbly, but I think I’m closing in on the right direction.
We’ve been watching through the Rocky movies recently, and one way that I identify with the Italian Stallion is his need to fight. There’s no explaining it. It just is. When he’s not fighting, his fists are clinching; and when he’s fighting, he’s giving it all he’s got.
I write until someone listens.
I don’t write because someone is listening. I write until someone listens. I write because I’m a writer, and, whether anyone hears me or not, I’ve got to keep my fingers going.
I want to write like Rocky fights (actually I want to marry Rocky, but that’s beside the point). I want to create with passion and abandon, knowing other people are stronger or bigger or faster, but none of them have my heart. I might not go down as the best writer or the most skilled hand-letterer or the finest photographer, but no one will be able to say anything against my effort to create and improve.
I’d love to be racking up hundreds and even thousands of readers and likes on my blog and Facebook author page, to trade my passion for glory, as Rocky’s song goes. But I’m thankful—so thankful—for every friend and follower who takes time to read my posts or look at my lettering projects.
I’m thankful for you!
In my first blog post I quoted the incomparable Mary Oliver who asked, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
I don’t know what you plan to do, but for now I don’t know of anything else I’d rather be doing than sending out echoes into a chasm from a little blog on Goose Hill.