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short version: i'm going to try having a blog, which is this, and there's a poem(?) after megan boyle at the end - you can click here if you'd rather just skip to that piece of writing at the end of this longer and non-poem piece of writing about writing
i've never had what I'd consider a blog, even though it seems like the kind of thing i'd do because:
don't get me wrong, i've tweeted and tried to be funny on tumblr in my time, but i've never used the internet to write longform opinion pieces or give updates on my life/creative practice, which is the sort of thing i'd count as blogging.
that was always fine, i wasn't setting myself up to have a series of deathbed regrets that i never turned my bebo account into a blogspot that rated metalcore bands, but then in june i had a bout of dissatisfaction with writing. nothing major, the usual and inevitable kind that's an inconvenient part of the process but you learn to navigate without much bother, but this time it was specifically because it felt like i was only writing three types of pieces - work that was part of a bigger project and didn't really work standalone (so i couldn't share any of it and didn't feel like i'd finished anything), work that i wanted to submit somewhere (somewhere that wants first publication rights, so i couldn't share it anywhere and now had to go through all the work of submitting and waiting an unknown amount of time to find out if it's been picked up, so it didn't feel like i'd finished anything) or work that wasn't up to scratch, so needed a bunch of editing in the future or wasn't worth putting out there and was only valuable as a private writing exercise (so there was nothing to share and it didn't feel like i'd finished anything because i hadn't).
i was desperate to feel like i'd completed something - not just started something but finished it, wrapped it up in a bow, fired it out into the world and was done with it. so i did the shameful and inevitable. like all twenty somethings feeling malcontent, i started a podcast. sort of. i went on a walk through my local graveyard, found a comfy place to lay in the sun, recorded a voice memo to myself, took a picture from where i was laying, and put it on soundcloud with the picture as the art.
i didn't tell anyone about it, didn't link to it anywhere, and it got a grand total of 4 listens somehow. it was called 'something/anything' after a ramble i went on in the first episode about how i just wanted to make something (slash anything) as the first step towards making something that meant anything, even if it was only meaningful because i liked it, in the hope that enjoying a single self-contained moment of creation would give me a sense of satisfaction, which might turn into momentum or might just be pleasant, which would be valuable in and of itself. i couldn't tell you what i talked about in the second episode because i never listened back to it. i didn't post the third one and didn't record a fourth. it had achieved it's job - i'd enjoyed doing it, gained enough creative momentum to hold my funeral, and for that moment at least i'd been sufficiently reminded of the lesson that i needed action to overcome dissatisfaction. that's one of the lessons i'll keep learning, re-learning and reminding myself of over and over again, like how my value as a human isn't tied to my productivity, but for that moment i'd re-learned it enough.
a few months later i got sick. i was diagnosed with long covid on friday the 13th of october (a little on the nose, even for a poet) after getting pretty wiped out by post-viral illness since early august. the physical stuff was difficult, especially the palpitations and breathlessness, but the cognitive effects affected me more. it took my ability to express myself - i couldn't keep track of my thoughts, trying to think gave me a headache, and when i tried communicating anyway i couldn't find the words to get through a single sentence. work made me stop coming in before i'd accepted how bad it was because my colleagues found watching me try to get through a conversation distressing. as someone whose day job entirely revolves around speaking to people and whose main hobby and creative outlet is writing and performing, when the cognitive effects were at their worst it took my main sources of enjoyment, achievement, and connection to a sense of self from me for months.
i'm doing better now compared to the worst of it, but i'm still getting my groove back - the time it takes me to do the new york times easy sudoku is slowly returning to my old six minute mark (i'm currently currently 9 and a bit minutes, which is up from 18 minutes, which is up from getting so confused keeping track of the numbers that i had to stop and have a little cry on the floor), i can wash up like, six plates before i get palpitations now, and i've been able to write this! i'm taking a lot of breaks, but it still counts. i'm not as well as i was before i got ill, but i'm the best i've been since i've been ill.
i'm figuring out how to meet myself at my new baselines. i've been getting back into reading again slowly, single poems and short stories because i couldn't manage collections or novels. rereading things was easier than taking in anything new, so i revisited some old favourites. i returned to 'selected unpublished blog posts of a mexican panda express employee' by megan boyle, which was my favourite book for a time in maybe 2012 or 2013. it's exactly what it says on the tin, confessional blog posts running through thoughts, giving descriptions of what was happening around her at the time, listing her wants or lies she's told or everyone she's ever had sex with. it's written in a really conversational voice, frequently in one page pieces made up of single line paragraphs, and i was so grateful for it because i was so grateful to be able to comfortably read again.
in the same way that i've been adjusting to new ways of reading, i've been figuring out what writing looks like for me right now. i used to try my best to keep up a daily writing practice, even if most of it doesn't turn into anything i'll publish, but i couldn't write at all for a few months and i've only finished one good poem since august. physically, i'm only just getting to the point where i can start building up the amount of exercise i can do instead of focusing on rest based recovery and avoiding overexertion (for a comparable example that might be easier to relate to - if i broke my leg, eventually i'd start doing exercises to build its strength up, but first i'd have to keep the cast on, weight off, and let it heal enough to get to that point) and in a similar way, i've only recently reached the point where i can think about pushing myself mentally without it knocking me back for the next few days. because of that i didn't want to keep forcing myself to try writing perfectly polished poems, but not writing at all was bringing back the something/nothing-fuelling desire to do and have done.
since reading blog posts was easier than writing novels, once my ability to reply to peoples messages without getting a headache had mostly come back, i figured writing blog posts might be easier than writing poems. i wrote a piece after megan boyle, which was the first time i'd finished something and been happy with the end result in a while, and decided to see if i could manage blogging, looking for the same sense of completion my voice notes psuedo-podcast gave me.
i'm aware that if i'm starting a new way of sharing something then making tiktoks or instagram reels or even putting this on tumblr would be better for engagement, and that it feels a little behind the times to be writing something inspired by a book from the days of alt lit in a blog on a basic website with no presence on any apps that i made myself from beginner html tutorials, but i'm sticking with the tried and trusted system of 'make something for yourself and put it up on an unknown corner of the web without caring if it gets seen' from something/nothing. plus, after seeing other people do it and reading some cool small internet manifestos, i want to do more low tech stuff on my own diy websites. social media isn't bringing me joy lately and i don't want creating to mean i have to become a brand and the social media manager for that brand, putting in tons of work i don't enjoy in order to flay myself against the altar of the algorithm and pray it reaches someone. this feels like a fine place to start.
i'm not going to promise i'll have a new blog post up every monday or anything fixed, because the point of this is trying new and kind ways to let myself create with the ability i have right now, not about swearing i'll force myself to meet artificial, self-imposed deadlines regardless of the cards i'm dealt. i am going to try and do at least five posts to see how i feel about it, but i'm going to do it in a way that serves me and what i need. it'll probably be sporadic - this one took me 24 days, on and off.
right now, all i know is that it's nice to be writing something, even if it's coming from a different form of practice than i'm used to, and one that's changing as i change. look at this! i've written two things! i've completed something! i'm going to be proud of that, and maybe go have a lie down as soon as i post this.
so to close this first post out, a decade too late for it to be timely, here's a piece after megan boyle: