When I finally foraged the courage to start a blog, you’d think the first thought in my head would be, What should I write about? Instead, it was more of a matter-of-fact, abysmal statement of I have nothing to say. (My mom suggested I write about the places I go out to on the weekends – someone please remind her that I frequent the same five bars and am not Carrie Bradshaw.)

A small fear continued to knock, however, with the thoughts of doubt and incapability. It sat like a small ball in my chest, tightening with each worry I had. I was concerning myself with the belief that my writing wouldn’t be worth reading, or whichever topics I would choose to write about would not be catching enough to hold grip to.

Blogs tend to rapture themselves around passions and ideas. I couldn’t help but think, What do I find passion in? Jack of all trades, master of none, my flag of devotion was not placed in any particular field. I was constantly on the side of the pool, dipping my toes in the shallow ends, afraid to get my hair wet. What passion could I find myself expanding on that even one person would relate to?

I’ve always said that writing is my passion. Still, the courage to expose my writing felt difficult when my “experience” in writing is informal; I graduated with a B.S. in Marketing and Sales and a minor in Communications, and have experienced the world under a customer service microscope. In an attempt to expand my palate, I have taken writing courses through Gotham Writers Workshop, which was my first leap into any level of critique. However, I write stories on every computer I own. I’ve completed one NaNoWriMo and started at least a dozen more. All the while keeping my cards as close to my chest as possible, as I was afraid to reveal anything that didn’t feel like a Royal Flush (Newsflash – nothing you write will ever be perfect.)

So I sat and pondered (translation: I spiraled for about a week thinking I’ll never get my writing public) before deciding on writing about myself. Original, my thoughts mocked me. 

My upbringing does not naturally produce any groundbreaking think pieces. My life, while not always “easy”, was most certainly not hard. So what, in any world, could I have to say that could be so worth reading?

Truly, I don’t think I really do. But maybe some words might resonate, so it may be worth a try.

I’ll be using this space to delve into the pockets of my youth, adolescence, and newly young-adult years, hoping to recover a penny of experience that may be worth sharing. Even small changes in the path, whether intentional or not, can alter the course. After all, we’re all given stepping stones – some stones larger than others –  to get us over to the other side.

If you’ve made it this far, I hope that I’ve caught enough of your attention in exchange for patience on the next piece. If you skipped all the way down to here, hey, fair enough. Nevertheless, I’ll see you with more, soon.

♥.