A few weeks ago I discovered WordPress stats. Up ’til then I assumed only the small handful of friends I told about this blog read it, and even then, only occasionally.
Now I know that my words have been read by hundreds of people in several different countries.
Now that I know this, I feel duty-bound to be erudite and coherent. Now that I know my ramblings will pop up in email inboxes I feel the pressure of posting only perfectly edited missives. The days of dumping my thoughts and editing at my leisure are over!
The trouble is, once I start writing about something, it leads to other relevant points, which in themselves need clarifying and I try to keep things concise so I don’t end up with a confusing muddle, but all I end up with are tapestries of odds and ends of unwoven thoughts. Previously, I didn’t mind this. But now I feel a sense of responsibility.
The thing is, in trying to get things perfect I’ve ended up with a collection of half-written, half-baked posts languishing in a folder, forgotten because other ideas have elbowed them into obscurity. Previously, when I thought no one (or nearly no one) was reading them, they would have been good enough in their imperfection, but now they seem far too too imperfect to show the world. And I’d better keep them short to prevent idle wandering.
The world just might have to do with my imperfections.