One of the big problems I have when writing blog posts these days is whether or not anybody wants to read what I'm writing. Why does my opinion matter above anyone else's? Why should I spend my time typing out my thoughts on a particular matter? What's the point?
I think I may have over-internalized something an acquaintance of mine once wrote on their own blog, a hundred-thousand years ago. I forget the specific words, which makes it incredibly difficult to find them on his website, but it was essentially a variation on something Craig Ferguson said during one of his standup specials - does this need to be said?
Ferguson's take on it unravels a little further:
Does this need to be said?
Does this need to be said by me?
Does this need to be said by me now?
And fuck, it's difficult to get past questions like that when you've struggled with confidence and low self-esteem your entire bloody life, because I ask myself those questions and I find myself answering, invariably, No. Of course it doesn't. Not now, not by me. Why should I write my opinions about any given subject? Who gives a shit beyond me? What would be the point?
It turns out that thinking has seriously stifled my ability to write. I used to write a lot. I'd blog about everything, anything, all the time. Every stray thought, spun out into an elaborate op-ed.
Did you know I used to have a regular op-ed on a now-defunct gaming site? I wrote down every stupid thought I had - and I was 17 when the column started, so some of them were really quite stupid. I think - in fact, I'm 100% confident - that the only reason I was ever hired for that job was because the Editor-in-Chief of said site was a spectacular Britaboo, and the idea of having a British Person With Opinions writing for his little website was, for him, a badge of honor.
I was thinking about that column earlier this week, and musing to myself how I couldn't do it now. I can't get past that mental barrier I've put up for myself. Does this need to be said, by me, now? Well, no. It doesn't.
But then, do I actually believe that? I can't, can I? Otherwise I wouldn't be on Twitter farting every single thought I have into the ether. I can't just be on Twitter to complain about services I use and make dumb jokes about movies I haven't seen yet. It has to be because on some level, whether it's ego or something else entirely, I think my words, my thoughts, my opinions and, occasionally, my jokes have some value.
They have to. Otherwise, what the Hell am I doing?
Maybe being on Twitter for - hang on, let me count my fingers here, ah yes - fourteen years has eroded my ability to string a thought out past 240 characters. Maybe it's eroded my self-confidence. Maybe that Craig Ferguson quote is an excuse. I don't know. I did actually start writing another, separate post about having a dodgy bit of nonsense removed from my credit report today only to delete it because, hey, who gives a shit, so... I don't know.
I want to write more. I want to share my thoughts more. I want to opine again, rather than just tweet. I want to do that, and I hope to do it more often. Hopefully, with the relaunch of my Patreon and the soft launch of my Substack, I can do just that. Fingers crossed.
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