Who is this all for? Thoughts on audience and writer’s block.

Although staying on top of Blogging 101 assignments has been in my mind, I keep forgetting to post about them.  So here are some thoughts regarding what’s going through my blogger mind…

Yesterday’s task had me scratching my head a bit: Publish a post you’d like your ideal audience member to read.  Of course, this lead to the question… Who is my ideal audience?  If anyone in the world could read my blog, who would that be?  And how do I appeal to them?

I’ll get to these answers in a bit.  First, a story.

A couple of years ago, I found myself in an Innovative Creative Writing class.  Our textbook was Lance Olsen’s Architectures of Possibility and, throughout the semester, we read a bunch of trippy, postmodern work and strove to break the mold of “traditional” literature.  Our mantra was something along the lines of “Do something new!  Break the mold!  Be innovative!”

During that class, I spent a great deal of time thinking about blogging.  For the first time, I wanted to try my hand at writing not for myself, but for others.  I put a great deal of thought and wit into my posts and appealed to my classmates for help.  By the end of the semester, though, I was exhausted.  Left with very little motivation, I genuinely wanted to write.  The problem was every time I sat down to post, I got so bogged down by the pressure of a potential audience that the words completely froze.

Whenever I find myself struggling with writer’s block, I can usually trace it back to this problem.  Even last night when I sat down to follow through with the assignment and write a post for my ideal audience, I couldn’t seem to do it.  I’ve come to the conclusion that, when it comes to writing non-academically, I do my best without constraints.

The following quote says it better than I ever could:

“If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” Toni Morrison

If writing novels isn’t your thing, there’s always the WordPress version : Write the blog you want to read.

A few years ago, I spent a semester at a university in London.  Before I departed, I noticed that everyone I knew who studied abroad made travel blogs, but always let them fall by the wayside after a handful of posts.  This frustrated me!  I wanted details about adventures–history, fun stories, photos, etc.  So, when I created In the Bellow and the Uproar during my own travels, I stuck with it–creating the travel blog I had always wanted.  (The funny thing about this was that, although in my eyes I had created perfection, none of my friends actually bothered to read it.)

Here on Keep Your Feet, I want to write a blog that I want to read.  I want to create posts that I come back to.  In a way, I suppose my ideal audience is myself.  Gosh, is that pretentious?  I hope not!!  I really don’t want to come off as snobbish in any way.  I just know that when I strive to create for others, my abilities peeter out.

In the end, I’d rather write for myself and create decent content than write for others and not create at all.  If my content your fancy, that’s awesome!

Am I the only one who struggles with the idea of writing for an audience?  Let me know in the comments!  Fellow Blogging 101 classmates, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject!

In which writing my senior seminar strips away my ability to blog.

Maybe it’s because really nice out, which is odd for Minnesota this time of year.  Or maybe I’ve spent too many afternoons pent-up in the library writing essay drafts.  Whatever the reason, every time I open WordPress to make a new post, my thoughts fly out the window.  My mind goes blank.  I sit back.  I think, “You know… maybe I’ll find the words tomorrow.”

I don’t want to abandon you, dear blog, especially when there is so much pre-graduation nostalgia floating in the air.  There’s not better way to make a good post than channeling as much sentimentality as possible!

Really, though, my focus is elsewhere at this point.

I’m a busy girl.

My senior seminar draft is in full swing–I hit sixteen pages this afternoon!  It’s nowhere near complete, but it’s a start.  I’ve spent three afternoons on it and fully intend on using a fourth tomorrow.  I wrote a different nine page essay earlier this week.  I’ve been thinking deep thoughts about Romeo & Juliet, which is WAY better than I remember last time we met back in ninth grade.  I have an interview for my dream internship next week.  I’m reading this AWFUL book for my Courtly Love class called The Rules: Time-tested secrets for capturing the heart of Mr. Right.  (It’s one of the most sexist, offensive texts I’ve encountered yet.  My face contorts with disgust every time I look at the cover.)  I’ve been planning and attending Bible studies and meetings, preparing for my future career in ministry.  I’ve been trying to spend time with people I care about, which is a challenge ’cause it’s the busy time of the semester.  I’ve been going to the gym, taking walks to the wind turbines, and soaking in as much sunlight as possible in hopes that it will keep me going.

At this point, I’d rather do all these things and more than try to blog properly.  Maybe when my senior seminar draft is finished and polished, my inclination to write will come back.  Who knows?

Until then, you can find me in the library.  Or watching Netflix.  Or thinking about Shakespeare.  (I wasn’t kidding about being in love with Romeo & Juliet.  It’s a wonderful play and those poor kids need to learn to keep their hormones in check.)

Those pesky words

I can’t count how many times I crack open my computer, flip to WordPress, and open a “New Post” link.  Each time is the same.  I stare blankly at the white box (the one I am now filling with words) and my eyes glaze over.  The grey “Enter title here” text goes all fuzzy, kind of like when you go to the eye doctor and they ask you to read the bottom line.  Although you try your very hardest, you just can’t make sense of those last few letters.

I wish I could write.  Oh, I truly wish I could.  Late at night, I’ll be at my post behind the Circulation desk at the library and, between organizing book trucks to shelve and handing back printing (chirping “Five cents is your change!” in the most chipper voice possible after midnight), and the thought will flash across my mind: I want to blog.  Sometimes I have an idea, sometimes I don’t.  But in those moments, I miss the thrill of opening that “New Post” link and letting the words fly.

So I do it.  I open a new link.  But the words… the words just won’t come.

Why have my words abandoned me?

I blame academia.  With all the essays I have to write week after week after week, my brain has no room to breathe.  When I finally get a moment to actually write something for enjoyment, it’s so exhausted that it simply looks at the empty post and declares, “NO.”

It’s like there’s something stuck in my word generating system.  It’s not like the words aren’t there.  They are.  I can feel them simmering just behind my ears, tiny assemblages of letters attempting to find a subject to fixate on.  But then, when I attempt to access them, something gets in the way.  My mind hits a wall and the words stir about, giggling maliciously to themselves as they dart away.

They think they’re so clever, those words.

Apparently, the words are sick and tired of being used for purposes they don’t want to be used for.  They are in rebellion.  “No,” they protest, “we hate being used to analyze visionary oscillation in Virginia Woolf’s novels.  We don’t like being subjected to constructing a rhetorical criticism, even if we’ll be shedding light on Churchill and Lenin.  What do you mean those interpersonal communication reflections should be a piece of cake?  No!  We think they’re stupid.  We don’t want to help.  Oh… you have to write some creative pieces for your class?  Sorry.  No can do.”

It’s very annoying when words don’t want to cooperate.  I feel rather foolish, staring at that blank white box all the time, feeling all the potential words roiling in the back of my mind, knowing that none of them will be kind enough to come to my assistance.  So I’m stuck here in my meta-world of writing about writing, wrapped in a ball of frustration, waiting for the semester to be over.