On Writing

Yes, I’m stealing Steven King book titles for my diary entry titles now. The diary really has come to this.
 
Anyway, I got several very well reasoned notes on my last entry, including a few people who said that I should write whatever I want in my diary without worrying about my readers and the sort of (inaccurate) perceptions that they might gather from reading it, which is all fair enough, but it’s advice I will never heed because I’m always writing for an audience. I never just write for myself. To be honest, the first time I ever did any “writing” outside of school was when I randomly started this diary a few years ago, and it’s still bizarre to me how I’ve kept it up. I’ve never kept a paper journal or something similar just to gather my thoughts – I’ve never wrote just to write. Heather has dozens of journals filled with writing that no one but herself will probably ever read and I’m sorta baffled by how she does it. I’ve literally tried a few times over the past few years to honestly just write, for myself, and I fail miserably every time. I suppose we all just write for different reasons, Or, maybe I’m still writing for the same reasons, I just need the logical validation of having an audience to read my writing in order for me to do it.
 
Still, I’ve never really wrote to try to sort through things or make sense out of my life as some people seem to – it’s always just been more of a conversational thing. I write in the same way I talk to a friend over lunch. I write to share experiences, whether it’s a stupid one about RFIM’s or something more serious. The point gets lost on me when I leave so much out that I end up not really sharing anything – which is why there are certain things I will never write about (or talk about either, for that matter).
 
It’s occurred to me that I’ve written more entries lately about what I’m going to write or not write or why I write than actually properly writing. In my defense, I haven’t had a great deal to write about – I’m still slowly freaking out about moving out next year and living alone, but I have another 8 months to linger about that. At any rate, hopefully I’ll get back to writing something that isn’t quite as pointless (or is it?) as these entries. Until then.