Nearly a year and a half ago, I publicly said that I would start this blog. A year and a half ago! I could lie and say that I really was just too busy or couldn’t find the time to sit down and simply write;

I could say how school or work got in the way too much of the time; Or, I could just tell the truth: I was scared.
And I still am.

But more than that, I think I just needed time. I needed space. I needed quiet. And I needed to be alone. That last part is the most crucial I believe, because without my over-arching solitude over the last couple of years (more like three years, honestly), I wouldn’t have even gathered the courage to start writing this, much less publish it on the internet(!).

And it was more than trips I took alone, where I was actually by myself for three or more days. It was declining invitations to parties or events out that I instead spent the time being in my home, reading next to my dog, reading at my favorite coffee shop, writing little bits of prose, or just being still (legitimately, lying flat on my back, fan going, in the middle of the room, Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon may or may not have been playing on a loop, my eyes closed). It was in these times as well as being alone in the mountains or sitting lakeside that I acknowledged a need for quiet.

I’ve known that I’ve favored being by myself rather than being more outgoing or social for a fairly long time but I never fully acknowledged my need for quietness before. Like true quietness. Most of the time, when I went somewhere or went on spontaneous hiking excursions, there had always been at least one close friend with me; I hadn’t gone off somewhere some hours away from home by myself before. And it truly made all the difference. Being alone in beautiful places does wonders to worn minds, even if I felt that my mind wasn’t worn out (in actuality, it most certainly was).

Now, those above lines were all scribbled in a journal deep in the woods on the west side of Mount Mitchell in North Carolina. I met nary a passerby nor woodland creature for the entire time I was alone in that forest. And it was perfect. I felt rejuvenated, I felt wonderful, and I felt very much alive. And when I returned the next week, people asked me things like, “You really went off by yourself?,” and “Seriously? ALONE?? All by your lonesome???” I responded in a kind of dumbstruck way every time. I needed it, I eventually started saying. Still, some people didn’t get it, and it might just boil down to preference in the end. To be or not to be…around other people for a little bit of time, that is the question (lol).

I went off a few more times that summer by myself and got the same feelings and inspiration I experienced each time before, feeling sad when I had to return home (Disclaimer: I did miss my people. I absolutely did, promise. And my dog. I always miss my dog). Yet even with such wonderful adventures with myself, even with all the reading and writing I did on these trips, I still could not bring myself to compile and publish those things on the blog I had promised people months prior. People actually said to me “Hey, you should do this because I would read it!” which should have given me all the courage in the world. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why it didn’t.

Those few words above were taken from scribblings in the Brasstown Wilderness in North Georgia (a place I’ve frequented before), where I found an awesome rock wall a little off to the side of the trail where I strung my eno and pulled out my journal. I stayed there for a few hours too, no animals around, no one to disturb the quiet. My only audience to anything I had done or what I was doing was just myself. And that was great! However, for me, if I’m out to be the journalist/writer/content creator that I’m set out to be, it’s obviously problematic.

So, yes: I was/am scared to put my words out there for anyone to read under my own name (I’ve written a few guest entries to certain blogs before, anonymously). Truthfully, the direction of this blog is still very much unknown, but at least it’s out there, warts and all. In addition, however, to my time alone, I ran across many quotes that got me thinking (or coerced me to think, I still don’t know; Thank You, Pinterest). A few stuck out among the rest and these four helped pull me across that final threshold into finishing this post.
And then actually publishing it.

I think new writers are too worried that it has all been said before. Sure it has, but not by you.

-Asha Dornfest

I’ve seen different variations of this sentiment, but none are as blunt as this one is. It’s truth! I’m a worrier and I think that writers and contemplative people generally are because they’re always thinking. They’re always inside their heads and while that can be good, it can, again, be problematic (especially when success in your desired line of work is based on what you produce…for other people). So, I’m a worrier…

Worry is a misuse of the imagination.

-Dan Zadra

…which led to the effect of this quote. Again, how truthful! Being inside my head is great if I’m not worrying about what could go wrong or what people will think about the stuff I produce! This is something I put up on my wall immediately after I encountered it. It has given me motivation when my levels have dropped.

Every first draft is perfect because all a first draft has to do is exist.

-Jane Smiley

Okay, I was definitely on the right path by the time I encountered this one. The simplicity! I can write academically pretty easily (a skill some people envy I’ve been told, but I envy those who can do mathematics or economics on a whim and walk away unscathed and without trauma). It takes some time to get going on a draft (there is no greater force than a fast-approaching deadline) but this quote here made it heavily simple. Breathe it into existence. Sit down and don’t worry about conventions, audience, or even a point. Take one idea and run with it. And, of course, my other writing became easier too. All it had to do at first was exist! And that, in and of itself, was good enough to start.

You must write for yourself and not what you think people want to read.

-Jodi Ellen Malpas

I saved this one for last because it affected me most. I already said I think a lot and, of course, part of the reason this took so long to write is because of that. As you can see, I don’t have a niche yet, I don’t even know what my second post is going to be.

But it’s mine! Some things can be so simple yet so revelatory! I’m honestly writing to or for no one except for myself. Does it sound selfish? I mean, sorta. Does it sound arrogant? A little. But who knows? I don’t know if someone reading this will relate to anything in here. I don’t know if people will want to wait for ages for a post about literally anything. I don’t know! But it’s for me! And I imagine that’s how some authors operate. No intended audience, no intended point, no one convention to stick to. Just their words gathered together in a basic structure. Their way, and no else’s.

If it brings me joy, I’ve fulfilled my goal.

There are lots of unknowns about this still, obviously. Like I said, I don’t really have a plan for a second post yet. Being real and authentically myself on the internet is still something that frightens me (I prefer deep, in-person conversations actually). But we shall see. We shall see what the quiet brings me.

And, hopefully, I’ll be able to bring something to you too.

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Something I thought that would be rather cool and unique is this list here. I am quite passionate about music and while my iPod is filled with music far and wide, there are a few songs that stick around while I write. Each post will have a short list (this is a bit longer since I’ve been editing this post for a while now) of the main ones I listened to while writing the majority of each post. Something unique and something niche, maybe:

1. Monica Heldal—Jimmy Boy got Home
2. Old Man Canyon—Wiser
3. Michael Kiwanuka—Always Waiting
4. Milo Greene—1957
5. Matt Winson—Woodfalls
6. The Oh Hellos—In Memoriam
7. Panama—Strange Feeling
8. Field Division—Hollow Body Weather
9. Ziggy Alberts—Follow the Ocean