When I write, I write for myself. At least, I write for a version of myself. I have an obsession with the idea of encounter and how I meet that other version of myself – possibly the one that’s unencumbered by over-thinking – during the course of that writing. I digress. My apologies. Let me begin again.
When I write, I write for myself. I don’t know if that’s wrong. It seems self-centered and therefore wrong. I find myself living in this tension between writing for myself and writing a blog post or poem that can be read by others.
I know that my writing first has to bring me joy. If it doesn’t, I don’t see the point in writing it. I struggle to write when I haven’t found my own way of speaking about a thing. I circle the thing for what seems like an eternity. I sometimes find an entry point. I sometimes don’t.
The problem I’m encountering is that the writing on this blog isn’t helping to grow my business. I may think it’s helpful to talk about the pitfalls of perfectionism, but I don’t know that my intended audience does. I may want to encourage beginning writers to embrace failure, but they can’t embrace failure if they don’t know where to begin.
I’m at a crossroads. Do I continue writing for myself or do I pursue the true goal of this business, which is to help other people tell their stories? I think it’s an easy question to answer when phrased that way. Don’t you?