• Stop telling yourself, “It’s too late.”
• Stop waiting until you make enough money to do something you’d really love.
• Stop telling yourself, “It’s just my ego” whenever you yearn for a more creative life.
• Stop telling yourself that dreams don’t matter, that they are only dreams and that you should be more sensible.
• Stop fearing that your family and friends would think you crazy.
• Stop telling yourself that creativity is a luxury and that you should be grateful for what you’ve got.

Julia Cameron, in The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, page 7

I’ve been moving, among other things, for the few of you who check this page and have been wondering. In the coming weeks, I’m going to be reading Julia Cameron’s book. I’m going to try to let go of my fears in the process. I don’t intend to post my responses to her writing prompts on this site, but we’ll see!

The question: Why in the world do you come to the page?

The answer: I don’t know.

How do I not know? I wondered. I’ve always considered myself a writer. From the first time I wrote my own story, I wanted to write more.

I’ve always wanted to harness the power of words the way that George Bailey wants to lasso the Moon:

What did George want to do with the moon? Who knows. But he wanted it. So is my desire to use words. I don’t know to what purpose.

Now I’m facing an internal crisis: Who am I writing for? What do I want to write? Why am I writing?

“Rebecca’s Writing Practices” is the fifth blog I’ve set up. I’m realizing I don’t have an answer to those questions in terms of this blog.

Two of my blogs are family blogs—one for me to write my life events and thoughts for my family and friends, one to post pictures of my adorable baby boy for his grandmas. These are extensions of my personal journal. I write in my journal as a sort of personal catharsis to the happy and painful events of life. My audience is myself, my family, and my extended family. I learn from my past self when I revisit my journal pages. I feel like this writing has a purpose, and I often feel satisfied with my recordings of my life. It is not polished writing, but it is mine.

Another blog I’ve begun is a reading/book reviews blog for other readers. While I am trying to keep my varied audience of readers in mind, ultimately I write because I feel the need to think critically of the things I read. I studied English in college, and I find myself trying to apply the things I learned about literature to my current reading and succinctly analyze my writing. While my reviews certainly are not A+ term paper material, I feel good about my developing ability to succinctly capture the emotions and themes of the books I’m reading.

My fourth blog is my photography blog. I don’t focus on writing, but rather capturing my memories and emotions through photography. I feel satisfied with my photography, amateur that I am.

That leads me back again to “Rebecca’s Writing Practices.” I realize that, despite what published authors say, I must have an audience in mind when I write. I’m realizing I don’t know my audience, and it’s making it hard to write. What do I want to write? I’m most familiar with personal nonfiction sketches because I’m so used to journaling and blogging. That’s what I began focusing on. I started responding to prompts using the personal experiences that are familiar to me. I want to write fiction, but I always feel frustrated when I do; it is never convincing to me because I’ve never been there. I realize that I don’t need to write for a blog, but I’m struggling to find purpose to my writing when I’m the only one reading it from the hard drive of my computer.

This leads me back to the original question: What brings me to the page (or computer, in my case) in the first place?

I have this longing, an urge, to fill the white screen with my words, with my creativity. I want to be a Creator, through words. But I don’t think that’s enough. I need a reason to write, and I need to have an audience in mind.

I wrote something dumb recently. When I reread it and noticed how ridiculous it was, I threw it out in shame. Now, I’ve been having a hard time writing anything. I just can’t approach writing this week.

I think I’m afraid that whatever I create will be mediocre—a problem I’m sure will be true. This blog wasn’t intended to be for polished writing. I’m so out of practice, anything I write will be mediocre.

I realize that I am an amateur writer. As a child I was full of creativity. I wrote stories, I wrote in a journal, I wrote plays, and I generally remained creative. I haven’t had any forums for my creativity lately. I desire some of those “creative juices” so I can be the writer I want to be.

I started this blog to force myself to be accountable—to have a forum where I felt I must answer the internal call to write. I thought I’d respond to the online writing prompts and that would help me become better. In some respects, it’s been good to respond. In others, I don’t see it helping. I don’t want people telling me “Well done!” or “I understand” all the time because that won’t help me. At the same time, I’m terrified of being told that I’m a lousy writer and that my images are ridiculous or silly.

I realize that I need an audience in mind when I write: I need a purpose to what I’m writing. Writing “for the world” via a blog is not necessarily working for me.

I’ll be back on this blog. But first I need to figure out why I’ve started it, and I need to get past this week of writer’s block.