Tag: blogging

What’s the Point of Blogging?

It’s been 5 years since I signed up for WordPress and for a long time, my blog remained vacant and without interaction. And then about three years ago, I got a job and with it, a flash of inspiration to blog more. Since then, I’ve been trying to keep up with life as it flashes by without me even realising it.

I love writing, and I love blogging about anything that strikes me. However, for a while now, I’ve been wondering: what’s the point of blogging?

My job revolves around writing. Copywriter, content writer, and all things words — that’s how I’d describe my work life.

I’ve gotten so deep into work that it’s morphed into my life. I’ve tried to keep my blog away from work, and I think I’ve succeeded. But after writing for and thinking about writing for 10 hours, coming home to do the same thing is a tad bit tiring. It doesn’t bore me, though; far from it. It just drains me. I seldom know what (else) to write, so I write what I like, like haiku, for instance.

It’s fun to play with words, decrypting tones and perspectives. It’s a challenge to tell an entire story in 17 syllables. A challenge I enjoy taking every single time.

That’s how I discovered the point of my blog: to enjoy myself. I didn’t realise it for a long time because, unlike most people, I had fallen in love with my job. My blog isn’t a coping mechanism; I don’t need it to vent my frustrations at work or complain about my boss.

I enjoy my job as much as I enjoy my blog. Happiness all around.

So is there any other reason to blog?

There is.

Just the act of blogging expands beyond self. It spreads my joy, transforming from simple joy into learning. A blog should thrill, give people a reason to come back for more. Just stringing clever wordplay doesn’t do much for anyone. Well, it does to some extent, but discussions, strong opinions, and experiences do more.

So that’s the point of blogging. Giving people a reason to spark conversations. That and a few haikus for myself. I can’t give up on that.

Well, that’s me. What do you think is the point of your blogging?

Write like Theatre

Practice is key. A performance artist doesn’t blow us away on a whim. No one can play a part for an audience unless they’ve played the part before. For the sake of one day’s show, performers practice for days, morning and noon, under lights and beneath makeup. Nothing goes out in one day and turns out successful.

A writer is also a performer. I write copy every day for websites, blogs, ads, and social media. But I never sit down in front of my computer and write the best line the first time. My best writing doesn’t pop out of nowhere; I need a warm up run first. Every day, I need to practice for show time before I dress up. I need a rehearsal, a prelude for what I’d do for the rest of the day. Because for a performer, every day is show day. For a writer, every day is a big day.

It may seem like theatre artists just breeze out and put on the best show of their life. But spontaneity is overrated. What appears spontaneous to the audience is meticulous practice on a day-to-day basis.

Theatre artists must practice every day before the show begins. And a writer must write every day before the day’s work begins. It’s a way to flex those stiff finger muscles and ease into the task of feverish typing that awaits them through the day.

Every morning, I practice on my blog. I write to get my thoughts under control. I write to bring motion back into my palms, to stretch my arms, and to get the shit out of my head. Then I edit. I go back to the first sentence and try to make it make sense. I catch a few typos and add a couple of puns. And once I’m done, I’m confident that I’ve practised enough to do more, and better, writing.

That confidence exudes at show time. Once artists are ready, they can walk onto the stage and put on a great show. Theatre or writer, toiling efforts behind the curtains — away from the world — makes successful whatever’s in front of the curtains.

After a Year

I’ve spent the last year publishing a post every day. Today, it feels like a huge achievement, at least for me. When I started this blog, my brother — my sole supporter at that time — encouraged me to write a post every day. Whether I was sick or had an exam, I had to have a post out no matter what.

I couldn’t because I didn’t know what to write half the time. And when I took up the task in 2016, it was no different. Often, I’d have no topic sentence, no conflicting opinions, and no interest, whatsoever, in inflicting myself and others with bashful political stances. I couldn’t think what else I’d write about.

Some days, I forced myself to write something — a thought, a quote, or anything — because I had to keep going. Those were tough days; days I had to battle the block and doubt my abilities at the same time. So many days I wondered the purpose of my writing, and if people would bother at all to read. But when morning dawned, I came back to my computer and wrote. Because I just couldn’t do without.

However, for all the struggling, I didn’t write glorious pieces of prose. I just wrote a lot of crap, instead. I couldn’t help it. I even thought the bad writing was a result of forced writing, but I couldn’t help but write on. After three or four months of writing a post a day, it became a habit and I ached when I didn’t write anything in the morning. By midday, I panicked.

It pained me to put myself through what I knew was an ordeal that I didn’t have to. I knew people would understand if I just told them I’d had a bad day and don’t feel like doing a blog tonight. And yet, I’m glad I pushed myself. Today, looking back at the way I’ve blogged throughout the year, it feels rewarding. My blog has become a part of my being. It’s become my nature — my thing — to write something every morning. Even my colleagues know I come into work early just to write.

It came with a cost, though. Writing every day was taxing, and I had to give up a lot of other stuff. Like Facebook, for instance. I didn’t have the time to post pictures of myself pouting in front of punch bowls. I didn’t have the time to post quirky 140 characters, and my Instagram posts became so rare that my followers got notifications: “Your friend has posted something for the first time in a long time.” But none of that worried me too much. Sure, I would’ve liked a few likes, but I had made a choice to focus on my writing.

I wrote a lot of opinions. I figured out I had opinions over matters I thought I didn’t have opinions over. And since I knew people wanted to read what I wrote, I wanted to give them some sequence. I learnt to warp the chaos within to bring order — even if only for one post at a time.

The results were satisfying. I managed to hit a milestone of 500 followers. I know it’s a small number for someone who’s been in the blogosphere for a while. Despite that, though, I’m happy I’ve got a few people who I know want to read my blog. After a year of blogging, I’ve found myself out and I’ve found out how much I love my blog.

Writer’s Trauma

About three years ago, I was thrilled when I finished writing an entire novel. I had great expectations for it. It didn’t see the darkness of the press or sit in bookstores where fans cradled it and smelled the fresh print, as I had hoped. But it’s on Inkitt.com, and that’s better than it being locked inside my cupboard. A few days ago, I got an email from Inkitt about a new contest called the Teaser Awards. It’s pretty straightforward: I have to write a 200-character teaser for my novel.

Fun, I thought. It would be a great way to persuade people to read my story. I needed more readers because most of my cheerleaders (immediate friends and family) didn’t even get past the first chapter. It’s not because the story was crappy, (I checked), but other pressing stuff came up. And with this teaser assignment, I thought I’d use my creativity to re-ask my friends and family to give my novel a second chance.

I sat down to write.

Three years was a long time ago. Of course, I know every scene almost by heart, but when I had to drill it down to a 200-character teaser, I got stuck. Not that I had so much to say and didn’t know what to pick, but because I had nothing at all to say. All of a sudden, the story I spent hours pondering on and nurturing, didn’t seem interesting enough. I tried digging my memory for something worth talking about, and it was as if my story was worth nothing. I didn’t have adrenaline pumping action, no sword fights, no heated arguments, not even a trace of romance. For fifty chapters, I had rambled on an on about a normal girl going about her normal life. I didn’t know what to say in my teaser.

I panicked. If I couldn’t find excitement in the story, myself, how would anyone else find it? I was so shattered I couldn’t work on my teaser anymore. I gave it a break, a day. Then it hit me: perhaps that’s why my family couldn’t read the story. Because there was nothing interesting about the everyday life of a teenager.

It was a depressing revelation, because when I wrote the story, I thought I’d made it as relatable as possible. A handful of readers told me they got bored after the first few chapters, but again, folks who did manage to read the whole story told me they loved it. (Well, not “I loved it” verbatim, but most of them said things like, “great work.”) And now every time someone tells me I’ve done a decent job, I can’t help my widening lips, my glowing face, and my joyous swelling, heart.

That’s how it is: You’d never know how others would react to your stories. There will always be mixed feelings and varied reviews. Some would like your story, some would hurl at it. Some give you constructive feedback, some would just throw unhelpful opinions. Variety is the essence of life. And it’s also the curse of writing.

I did rework my teaser to this:

What if you don’t know your calling? You’d try to figure it out, making decisions you’d regret – or love. You’d break your heart a few times, too. Until one day, you’ll succeed and all will be well.

If you think it works, you can read the story here. I would appreciate your feedback, whether good and bad.