I think I might have to suspend Sunday Sundries activities for a little while, since yet again I really have nothing interesting to share, it's just 'work, NaNoWriMo, work (I basically did three full days this week which was MENTAL for me, but annoyingly made everyone go 'welcome to full time work heh heh heh)' etc, except that this week I also sobbed myself to DEATH over 50/50 (review to come... sometime) and rolled my eyes about 50,000 times at the new James Bond film, which, actually, I enjoy doing (actively hating things is fun!)So that's about it. But then also I like doing my Sunday Sundries because it makes me think and write and think some more about something to write, and these are all very useful things, I believe. Which sort of brings me onto the thing I want to talk about this week.
See, when I started blogging, I was almost crippled by doubt about my writing ability, and wanting to share the words I wrote with THE WORLD (or, you know, the no people who read my blog those first few months, THANKS GUYS) and for the first... Good amount of time, I literally cringed every time I clicked publish. I mean, seriously, those were my BRAIN THOUGHTS, in writing, going out into the world! What would happen? Would anything happen? WHAT IF EVERYONE HATED ME AND MY BRAIN THOUGHTS?
It's weird because I've never really given much of a shit what people think of me (I know everyone says this, but I really really don't... I've never untagged photos of myself on facebook, if that means anything, which it does to me!) but somehow putting things down in writing and sending them out into the world really scared me, but still I did it anyway. And it got easier, as things do, and it got even easier when I made this whole awesome group of blogging friends who seemed to think I was funny, or interesting or something and who wouldn't, like, correct my grammar or tell me I was being an idiot unless, you know, I was being an actual idiot. Which does happen. And now I barely even think about what I'm doing, in the sense of I just type these things, and hit publish, and rather than it feeling scary, it just feels natural. Right. Warm fuzzies and all that.
And so. Writing fiction. It's totally scary. And honestly? I can't really write fiction. But the thing is, I can physically write fiction, and not cringe at every word I put down, not only because NO ONE IS GOING TO READ IT (this is really a very good thing. You don't want to read the No I Wri-ed.) but because I've become so practiced at writing my thoughts down that it doesn't feel so awkward, or forced, to be writing things that I'm just making up. I guess what I'm saying is, this is another one of those unforeseen side-effects of blogging, like the friends, and the readalongs, and oh sweet lord the conversations in the comments. The confidence to write things and be ok with it? That's a big plus for me.
So basically, in conclusion, all I have said is 'practicing at something makes you better at it/less scared to do it' and 'yay blogging!' all of which is ground breaking stuff, I realise, but please, hold your applause!
No, no, stop, I don't deserve this! Really. It's just embarrassing now.
Ahem. Happy Sunday everyone! I'll be spending mine having a pseudo-birthday for my cousin, at which there will be glittery cake (that, of course, I have made. And failed to take a picture of for you. Whoops?) How about you?
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