I ask this question every time I sit down to write about us. Is this boring? Is it insignificant? Or is this relevant? Helpful? Entertaining? Ultimately, these are the questions every writer, blogger has in the back of their minds.

Last week, I met up with an old friend, who knows I’m a writer. I’m quite open about it now on facebook, not for accountability reasons (publicising my aspirations never helped me) but to practice transparency (a challenge for your woman who has always wanted to present her best side in order to be liked not only virtually but in real life). I was proud last year when I achieved the Nanowrimo target of 50k words but my enthusiasm then died down.

“It’s fine,” I told her (lied to her), “it’s only a hobby for me, I don’t want to live off of it.”

The lie is the first part: it’s only a hobby. Innocent enough words, aren’t they? But in this case, they’re a heavy load on my shoulders because they make it sound like writing is not an innate part of my soul, like I hadn’t been creating stories even before I knew letters – like it’s not the best part of me.

And every time I create and share, I win. I feel free, I feel connected, I feel complete for a second.

Then the anxiety is back again: why am I doing this? Does anybody get it? Can anyone relate?

And then I remember: it doesn’t matter. Because while it’s public, it’s for me. It’s the only part of me that I don’t need to present for likes.

The point is to write it down, to create, to remember – because it might be ordinary, but it’s the only life we have. And man, does it have great moments!

Wish you all the same.

Love,
Miss Andi

The post is part of the Z to A challenge of 2022, organised by AprilA2Z team. Check more in the series here.