The Bicentennial of My Writing

This fall marks the anniversary of four years of writing this blog. How time flies! I have made over 200 entries during this time–about once a week. I did not have a goal for the quantity of entries when I started. I focused on the quality of my work.

I ponder whether to continue this blog. Sometimes I worry I am running out of interesting (at least to me) thoughts. Other days I feel overwhelmed with number of ideas that bombard my head. Selfishly I wonder what I would do if I did not have an opportunity to write to an audience every week.

Writing has defined my life. I wrote my first “novel” when I was 6 years old. I have been a constant journal writer (I called it a diary) since I read The Diary of Anne Frank in junior high. Recently I was going through memorabilia from high school and college and started reading journal entries. I can’t remember who some of those college friends were who warranted space in my journals at that time. Someday I will toss all those journals, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it yet.

Several years ago, a therapist suggested that I not worry about writing for others but just for myself. Was it possible for me to write and then stick those writings in a drawer never to be shared? I concluded that I write secretly in my journals. Sharing other thoughts professionally as well as personally is a risk worth taking.

I stopped writing a daily journal for a few months several years ago. I was saying the same boring things as I wallowed in my unhappy life. Since resuming daily writing, I have focused not so much on what I was doing but what meanings life has for me.

The title for this blog (wanderingwonderingwithkarla), came about as I had hours to amble in the mountains during the pandemic. Often by myself, I observe my environment as well as reflect on how I feel about those surroundings. Those reflective thoughts sometimes end up in a blog.

Now that I am not writing professionally, I have a different, albeit small, audience. I told a friend that if she wanted to know how I was doing, she could always see what I was thinking each week by reading my blog.

Sometimes I am exuberant about what I post. Other times I like my entries but don’t feel overly enthusiastic that they will resonate with anyone else. Nevertheless, I will continue to write this blog until I run out of ideas or find myself bored with myself. I hope the best is yet to come.