Writers have blogs. In our digital age, writers have blogs, and so I feel inclined to have a blog. I don’t know what I will write about, and I don’t know who will read it. I don’t know who reads blogs. There is a plethora of content online, far too much to keep track of. On one hand, I can’t imagine reading my writings will be worthwhile to anyone. Not my friends, not my family, certainly not strangers. On the other hand, I’m educated and informed and, at the risk of sounding pretentious, when I talk to people in my life, they listen.
Where is the line between confidence and arrogance? The thought of sharing my ideas online and believing that people will value it, it makes me feel full of myself. Ashamed for even considering it. But, my writing has been listless for the last two years, ever since I finished college. On this point, I disagree with Salinger; writing needs an audience. It is a performance, despite that it’s creation is solitary. And so, let this be an experiment.