Radio Silence

Last week I got together with a friend who has a blog, and I have decided to take my own advice to her.

So she has this blog, really, who doesn’t these days, but she wanted to talk about it, it’s potential, and what she could do with it. She was talking to me because under this unassuming free blog site is an author who’s written for other national blogs, and worked as a social media manager, so I have some experience in these matters. We were talking about marketing and who she shares with, and the list is basically her mother, and her friends on Facebook, because she has this same disorder that a lot of women have.  We don’t think we are qualified.  Who are we to tell other people what to do, what to think, where to go, how to do, etc? This beautiful poetry spilled from my mouth, and I may have been speaking to myself, or you, or anyone who ever thought, “who am I to say?”

Haven’t you ever had a conversation with a friend and been told that you gave them exactly what they needed to hear? Didn’t you put into words exactly what they were feeling? Wasn’t your perspective just enough to unlock an insight that change their outlook for the better? When you write something you are putting into words an idea that someone else couldn’t.  You are articulating a feeling that maybe they couldn’t put their finger on, and maybe that was the information that they needed to get them through today. It isn’t about setting yourself up above, and condescending.  Writing is about expressing the human experience on behalf of those who can’t.

Writing is about expressing the human experience on behalf of those who can’t.

I may be paraphrasing, but I think since I am paraphrasing myself it’s allowed.  These days half of what I say gets washed down stream, rather than committed to memory, so let’s all just bye grateful that it hung around in my brain for as long as it did.

She also asked why I had stopped writing.  I have a lot of reasons, and they are all spectacular spectacular. The primary being the return of my daily migraine, which I guess I now have to begin writing about.  We’ll see. I thought that a policy of radio silence would keep me safe.  It would keep me from embarrassing myself.  It has also kept me isolated.  In life there are no perfect solutions, only better and worse ones. Time to see if broadcasting is the better or worse one.