I was sitting around a table tonight with a bunch of women who read my blog.
What a strange experience.
One of the nice things about writing is that the writer is generally not there when people are reading it. It is somehow much safer. The distance is easier to navigate.
That said, hearing those people talk was somehow validating. They spoke about how they feel less alone when they read about my insecurities and my doubts. It’s funny. I often feel like perhaps I am whining, or at the very least writing into a void. The Internet is deceiving. Most people who read a blog don’t comment. It leaves the impression people aren’t reading… or at least that they aren’t connecting to what you write. I guess it’s nice to know that other women feel the same way and that my complaints help them get through their day.
I started this blog as an exercise in writing. It was a way to keep me connected to the written word even thought my writing career seems to be bogged down in research and marketing. It has resulted in a surprising amount of self-exploration. I have learned a lot about myself, both good and bad. I have found ways to get me through the difficult days, and knowing it may help others do the same is a pretty good way to spent an evening (that and I ordered some pretty great pampered chef items – yes, I am an addict!).