November 1st 2019
Today shit yeah it is November. That means it’s now officially six years since I first started this blog. Happy anniversary! It’s been emotional, y’all.
This blog started as a way of documenting my journey to becoming a professional writer, and six years later, I don’t want to be a writer any more. I think I’ve mentioned that on this blog before, but if not I’ve definitely mentioned it out loud.
So now this blog just serves as a document of my life. Nowadays, the blog is less exciting than it used to be even though my life is more exciting. And that’s because of my self-imposed filter. Six years ago no one knew this blog existed other than me and any strangers on the internet who stumbled across it, so I could say what I wanted, and tell whatever stories I needed to.
Over the years I started telling people I know about the blog, and slowly real people started reading it: My Mum, my Nan, my sisters, my friends, my girlfriend at the time, and her family too.
I travelled the world and I wrote about it on this blog. My family read about my trip in a new post every morning. There are still comments on the old posts from my Nan, which is lovely.
When I got back from travelling and started looking to find a job in the real world, this blog helped me get one. I was applying for copywriting jobs and was invited into an interview. The hiring manager Googled me, as you do, and found this blog. She liked my writing style and even though, in Pizza Hut and a maths degree, I had no practical experience or relevant education on my CV, she hired me anyway, largely thanks to this blog. And she’s still my manager today.
This blog helped me become a better writer. Practicing my, and sorry for this, craft every day and forcing myself to tell stories did help me progress. And at some point I kind of broke out of it. I discovered that I love working in business, and that writing is not what I want to do with my life. And I’m totally fine with that. Because I really love what I do, and I love that my blog got me there.
So my boss started reading the blog, and so did other people at work. Eventually it became hard to talk about my experiences at work on the blog because I was scared of saying the wrong thing, or revealing too much. And so I started to filter that side of my life.
And then when I split up with my girlfriend I started to write less and less about my personal life too. And at a certain point it’s not about me anymore, it’s just about things that happen to me. And I guess that’s fine to an extent, because it still serves a purpose, but really, after all the talk of documentation and practice and whatever else, the main thing I get from this blog is catharsis. Writing down my thoughts and feelings helps me process them better than stewing over them in my head does. I just don’t write down my thoughts and feelings as much any more because I’m scared of who might be reading.
And, to misuse a phrase, I’ve written myself into that corner. It’s my own fault. If I hadn’t told anyone about the blog, it could still be a secret, but if I never had the blog, I’d never have the job, and my life would be a whole lot different.
Until tomorrow, thanks for joining me.