Months in gestation, a morning in creating, and now I’ve been hit with writer’s block – or maybe it’s nerves – when it comes to my first ‘proper’ post. It’s like the anti-climax after a fun weekend or the return from holiday, with an added dose of self-doubt: why am I doing this? Is it just some huge exercise in ego?! Will I have anything of interest to say?! It’s that so-familiar sense of self-consciousness; the fear that by exposing oneself & one’s desires, you’ll be ridiculed or thought strange (what if people think I’m odd? Or worse – boring?!).
But creating a blog is a yearning I’ve had for some time & unless I try I shall never know. It maybe abandoned after a week or a month. Or it may prove a useful outlet on my journey.
As I’m plagued with such fears, my neice & nephew arrive in my room to laugh & laugh at the blackbird bathing in the garden before boinging (is that a word?!) furiously on my bed – with me joining in, only to pop a button off my cotton housedress through my enthusiasm. And suddenly I am reassured: I have plenty to say. I may not have found the meaning of life yet, but all is well with the world.