Writing a blog is a new experience for me. I am Putting Myself Out There in a way that makes me a little uncomfortable. It's like leaving the house without your underpants. Or forgetting your mobile phone (depending on what type of person you are).
Normally my written rants are emailed to friends and family - people who are generous with their praise and stingy with their criticism. One actually wonders whether my nearest and dearest actually read them - my most recent email about the exploits of my two daughters included - in the subject line no less - the misspelling of my youngest daughter's name. No one said anything.
a) everyone was so dazzled by my brilliant stories that no one noticed the typo.
b) people saw the typo but were too polite to mention it.
c) no one actually read the email.
When I write to family and friends, the words flow. I march on regardless of little things like grammar and spelling. I am uninhibited by punctuation and couldn't care less if a single sentence takes up an entire paragraph.
I know I probably cannot get away with that online. And so each word is cautious. I find I am thinking so much about what I am writing that the words have dried up, like the fuzzy feeling in your mouth the morning after a big night.
But if I want to be a writer I need to open myself up to scrutiny. I need to put myself out there and wait for the tempest. Or perhaps the silence.