I tossed and turned in the early hours this morning, before the light was even a glimpse in the sky. I could not stop thinking about writing. It’s as if that old friend that I haven’t spoken to in a while decided to drop by to figure out why I was “ignoring” them. “Where have you been? I miss you.” Needless to say, I woke up feeling overwhelmed and conflicted.
This post is coming after a couple of weeks of silence. I have not been writing daily for a couple of months now, and really have not given any thought as to why. I just stopped. For a short time, I would sit down at my laptop and bang out a piece to make for my Wednesday and Sunday columns, but honestly, it sometimes felt like I was scraping the bottom of an empty barrel.
Since I woke up thinking about writing, I decided I needed to take the time to think about why I have not written lately. To understand why I haven’t been writing, it’s important to know why I write in the first place. There are a couple of main reasons that I write. I use it as an outlet for my thoughts and feelings. A way to process the things going on in my head so that I can either make sense of them or see how nonsensical they are and stop thinking about them. Writing helps me make sense of both the outside world and the one in my head.
Another reason I write is to express my creative side. Growing up without much, I had to find ways to entertain myself. I was a kid back when computers were super new and massively expensive. There were no cell phones, let alone smartphones, and the TV was something of a luxury at my house. We did something called playing. So, I developed a pretty active imagination, and I still have that today. Writing allows me to express these imaginative thoughts using a God-given talent.
So, why have I not been writing then? The honest answer is that it was becoming a chore. I have always written for me. When I started my first blog, I wrote whatever I wanted. Sure, I wanted people to read it, but my main focus was writing about things that interested me and that I found valuable, and then just putting it out there to see if anyone else would enjoy what I had to say.
With my Substack, I started with the same idea. However, getting laid off and finding myself unemployed got me thinking about the potential this writing thing could have. So, I started researching other writers, entrepreneurs, and self-starters to see how they turned their “love” into potential profit. I began strategizing and tailoring my writing. Running my pieces through AI to see if I could make small tweaks to help get more eyeballs on them.
What happened is, I spent so much time trying to make the content fit what I thought people would want that I lost sight of the reason I wrote in the first place: for me. I write for the joy that it brings me. While I realize that there is a process to writing, proofreading, and editing, my voice is mine, and I am the architect of my own pieces. I got caught up in trying to make them all what others might want that I began to lose my own voice. Writing lately has not been fun.
If I am going to continue to write, it has to be fun. It has to bring me joy. I already have enough going on in my life that creates stress points. Being unemployed and trying to navigate a saturated technology industry is not easy. I have to develop new skills to become more marketable and explore options I never would have considered before. In all of this, writing was the one thing that allowed me to unplug and feel that freedom of expression that calms my soul. I need to do it for me.
This is all to say that I am back, but with one major caveat. I am going to spend less time worrying about what people may think of my writing and write about what I want to talk about. If there are topics you would like me to consider, I am always open to that, you just have to drop me a comment. Ultimately, however, my writing is for me, and I am sharing it with you in case you find it useful, helpful, or just entertaining.
No calls to action today, friend, just raw honesty from a writer that lost his way for a moment, but found his way back.
—Daniel