I started this blog to write. I know that sounds ridiculous as surely everyone who blogs likes to write, but for me it is absolute the only reason. I have always equated writing with a release. My sister-in-law runs almost obsessively, she has run a marathon and does 10k races at the weekend for fun, and the way that she talks about running is the way I think about writing. If I need to clear my head, I’ll write, I think up scenes/passages as I fall asleep, I take a line of a song and base a whole story around it. And I always feel better after I’ve written. Always. Even if what I have written is absolute tripe.
I have never planned a blog post, never had a list of things that I want to write about, never had a blog schedule, you know, just a photo on a Wednesday or a excerpt of fiction on a Friday. I wonder if I should. It sometimes occurs to me what I’d like to write about halfway through the day and I am genuinely excited to sit down after dinner and write. Sometimes it doesn’t and it is literally a stream of consciousness. Sometimes what I thought I wanted to write about isn’t and I’ll save it, thinking that I’ll write it later. I don’t usually.
It’s difficult to define yourself I think. I’d love to say that I’m a writer, a blogger and I suppose, by default, I am if I do. But I don’t make any money out of either. I have made about £6 from my book and nothing from this blog, and whilst that does matter, it doesn’t matter. I look at shiny, professional mummy blogs and wonder if I should go down that route, promote wildly and hope that I have a post that goes viral. But I don’t have the confidence to impart any knowledge. I have the knowledge, I have raised baby twins somewhat successfully for nearly four years but what do I know? So have tons of people, tons of mums. I don’t know what I’m doing any more than the next person and I almost resent the implication that any mum does know any more than another. We’re all struggling, all working harder than we’ve ever worked before.
I’ll carry on writing all the while I am having babies and then I’ll write when I can when I have to get a proper job again. Because being a writer should be something that is in your blood, not just a passion but a need. It must be a necessity to write, to clear your head of the jumble of thoughts, to sit and pour your heart out. Sometimes it’s really really hard, sometimes you don’t want to, sometimes it’s about forcing out the words when what you’d rather do is watch Netflix.
This is a stream of consciousness post. Can you tell?!
Fairy Lights and Fear 