There’s blogging, and then there’s writing.
They may sound the same, identical even, but they’re not.
I had this realization, oh, about five minutes ago, when I was deciding what to write (read: not blog) about. The thought process went something like this:
Hm, what to write about? Well, I’m off to Europe in two days! That’s exciting! Who wouldn’t want to read about that?
Screech. Halt. You’re in blogging mode, woman.
That’s true. I’m also having a two-sided conversation with myself. How about that? Who wouldn’t want to read about a girl who talks to herself?
Stop. Brakes. Answer: nobody.
Hm…well, I love my new apartment. I could write about living on my own as a 24-year-old single girl.
Um, cliche much? Hello, wannabe Carrie Bradshaw. How incredibly unoriginal.
Then it occurred to me that every idea I had was something that I’d blog about. And newsflash: this isn’t a blog.
And therein lies my problem.
It’s rough, switching mindsets. As a loyal blogger, I’m constantly brainstorming what would be fun to blog about. My apartment building guard is creepy! I wear earplugs to block out the sounds of three dogs that sound like they’re in heat. Every! Single! Night! My life is mundane, yet pretty exciting. But that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to write, and well…it’s not easy to transition from my blog to here. I mean, I could tell you that I’m visiting a whopping eight European countries in a mere 14 days, but to be completely honest? I don’t want to. I want my stuff on here to be anti-blogging. Because at the end of the day, how can I consider myself a writer if I only follow one path, right?
By the way, believe me when I say I know this was probably the most vanilla piece of writing in the history of vanilla writing. Stick with me, please and thank you.
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