Why I Write…

Why I Write…
Photo by Ilya Ilyukhin on Unsplash

People sometimes ask me what my blog site is about. My answer is always the same. “Me”. I am under no illusions I write great prose. I don’t believe most of my posts are about anything interesting or noteworthy. In fact, most are crap. But that’s OK. Most of us don’t lead noteworthy or adventurous lives. I’m no different.

But I think we ALL have something to say. It may not be particularly profound or insightful, but it is always unique. Me; I love good wines, food, technology and a nice writing pen. If two thousand years ago the Romans put one rock on top of another, I can be mesmerized for hours. None of these interests by themselves are extraordinary. There are plenty of wine drinkers in the world. There are thousands of blogs on good food. I think most people like a good writing pen, even if they don’t care to admit it. But all of these things together ARE me, and unlike many, I’m willing to write about them. My thoughts are not deep or perceptive, but I do have them, and I’m willing to share them with the world. And the best part? I don’t give a rat’s ass if anyone reads them.

You see, that’s the trick. I don’t care if anyone reads my blog or not. I’m not trying to build an email list, not hawking a new book, not trying to get hired as a consultant. At the end of the day, I really just want to learn how to write better. I want to be able to communicate with others more effectively. I want to see if there is a creative person inside this boring wine drinking geek with a pen fetish.

If people read my stuff and get something out of it, awesome! If they read and think it is shit and flame me on social media, hey, that’s kewl too. Hell, I’ll probably agree with them! Writing is not my life. It is not my destiny. I’m not even sure it is a skill I possess. It is simply something I do because I choose to. There are no strings, no ulterior motives. It is my meager attempt to strip off decades of socially acceptable varnish to find the truth; my truth, whatever that may be, underneath.

I sometimes wonder if that isn’t the secret of great writing. That when we quit worrying about what others think and we write for ourselves, the truth shows through all the layers of bullshit. I‘d like to be a better writer. Not because of any reason other than the desire to be better at something I choose to focus on. Of course, I also wanted to be a suave lady’s man, have six-pack abs, and be able to say once in my life, “Why yes, that IS my red Lamborghini, why do you ask?”. Nope, none of that ever happened either…. sigh.


Carolina grad, business owner, Master of the Oblivious, "Rural Renaissance Man", dog lover, family man, geek...

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