Blog. The word sounded like a bodily noise. Its actual definition was just as bad.
BLOG: a Web site that contains an online personal journal (Merriam-Webster)
I kept a journal as a teenager. Melodramatic ramblings about boys and mean girls, my uncool parents, and some really bad poetry. I didn’t want to read anyone else’s journal, why would they want to read mine?
I had no idea how to start a blog, so I Googled it. The amount of information was mind-boggling. I narrowed the search, “Where to start a free blog.” I eeny-meeny-miny-moed my way to a free blogging platform, picked a name, agreed to terms and conditions I didn’t read, and voilà–I had a weblog up and running.
I wrote the first post–short and to the point. I said who I was and what I was going to blog about. It was just the sort of post all the blogging experts I found via Google said my first post should be. It was perfect. All I had to do was click the ‘publish’ button.
I hovered my mouse over the button.
Nobody cares what a stay-at-home mom to 5 kids has to say.
Click the button.
You’re going to embarrass yourself.
Nobody will ever read it.
Just click it.
You never follow through with anything.
In “On Writing” Stephen King wrote, “The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.”
Write a memoir post – first-person and true – inspired by that statement.
Starting a blog was easy. Writing was easy. The sharing part? Not so much. Clicking that publish button was hard. For weeks, clicking that button sent me into a near nervous break-down. It got easier. It’s been almost 9 months since my first blog post but there are still days when my mouse hesitates above that button.