A year of blogs. A year of trying to think of things to write about every day.
A year of things that have hopefully been entertaining, funny and poignant on occasion.
When I started back in January, getting to this point seemed such a long way away. When I made it to the halfway point of the year, a date which I’d worked out and then forgotten by the time it came around, it still seemed like quite a challenge to make it to the end of the year. Now I’ve got here I realise that, actually, it wasn’t that hard to do. I mean, yes, there were days when I had literally no idea what to write about, but I’d sit and force myself to write something because I had to.
But that sounds wrong. I didn’t have to do this at all. I didn’t have to sit at work every lunchtime, or in the kitchen at home in the evening, and put 500-odd words into a WordPress document. I didn’t have to do any of it. I wrote this blog for myself, first and foremost. If there’s anyone out there actually reading it, and who has been reading it since the beginning of the year then thanks for sticking with it but I didn’t do it for you. I appreciated when you told me you enjoyed the blog, though, I really did. I did it all for me though. I wanted to see if I could do it. If I could make myself write something every day.
I could have stopped at any point. I could have just stopped, just faded out. People would have asked what happened to the blog and I’d have said that I didn’t have enough time, or whatever, to carry on with it. It would have been fine. It wouldn’t have made that much of a difference to the people who read this. Maybe they’d have a few minutes spare every day to do something else in, but other than that it wouldn’t have had a massive impact.
But it would for me. Because I’d have cheated myself. I’d have given up this, like I have given up things before, with some lame excuse about it being hard or that I was too busy. But I never was. Whenever we went away, I’d write a heap of blogs beforehand, to fill the gaps, or I’d write blogs on the fly sitting in a hotel room in my pants. I didn’t want to not write a blog – as much as I might have mooched about in the kitchen desperately trying to think of a subject and getting cross with people.
It sounds stupid, but writing this blog has – in a way – increased my confidence. I can do this. I can write something everyday whether I have to or not. No-one forced me to do this and I still did it. And that’s something that I’ll carry over to next year.
This year has afforded me some excellent opportunities to meet some amazingly talented people who have encouraged me to do what I want to do. I don’t think I’d have had a crack at the CBeebies Get A Squiggle On Competition without some serious nudges from a lot of people and while that died on its arse this year at least I can say that I had a crack at it, and that – next time – I’ll do it better (and possibly not finish the final draft at 2am in the morning it was due in). This year I’ve heard words that I wrote come out of someone else’s mouth – something with makes me smile with immense amounts of glee. This year I’ve done a lot of things that I’ve either not done before or, probably, wouldn’t have had a chance to if I hadn’t done things.
Not because I had to.
But because I wanted to.
Roll on 2012