...And so it begins.

            Once upon a time there was a simple girl from Iowa who loved books.  She would spend hours walking through book stores, scanning the aisles, and judging books by their titles (not their covers, mind you).  She loved to buy books and, when she found the time, to read them by candlelight on rainy days while drinking tea and eating acorn squash.  She was happy.  Then one day, her (seemingly) evil professor forced her at sword point to create a blog, and he cast a spell (assignment) on her that bound her to write weekly postings for it…

            Alright, I will stop.  I only write that because I know that said professor will read this post and I wanted to portray the torment this whole endeavor has put me through to this point.  The honest truth is I have often thought I would enjoy blogging and have always found excuses to not do it.  In this case however, the I-would-rather-fail-my-class excuse wasn’t really doing it for me… And so it begins!  My very own blog.

            I am humble enough to admit that the true reason I have never blogged before is because it scares me that people might actually end up reading this.  An odd thing to say, I am sure.  Most bloggers write, you know, for that very purpose.  And in some not so deep part of me I truly do want my writing to be read and enjoyed.  Who honestly wants their work ignored?  It is the fear of rejection that holds people back.  I guess that is what I am afraid of too.  The most public my work has ever been before this year was when my middle school published a collection of student poetry; a big deal to a twelve year old, no doubt.   But that is still nothing as widely accessible and “public” as an open blog on the world wide web.  That is unless we count Facebook updates (which, of course, we would rather not do.  Oh naivety…)

            Regardless of how often my work has been read, I suppose I really have written quite a bit in my life.  Outside of schoolwork I have entered a few writing contests, authored tons of poetry that no one has ever read, and I have kept a journal for years.  Still, it feels odd to open up and start writing stuff that people might actually (gulp) read.  Who ever would have thought that blogging could feel so much like reading your ninth grade diary entries in front of Congress. 

            Still, all the nerves and anxiety aside, I am really excited about this new thing I am trying.  I tend to feel more comfortable outside of my “comfort zone” than I do inside it anyway.  (Oh yes.  Feel free to think on that paradox for a while.)  What I mean is that I have never liked sitting around where I am comfortable, but truly do enjoy seeing how far I can force myself to go.  So I guess I really do have the courage it takes to run a blog!  Whew.  Glad I got that all hashed out…

            My point is this: at the end of the fairy tale the (seemingly) evil professor turns out to be more like a kind mentor who helped the simple girl from Iowa step out of her too-scared-to-be-read box and to begin to call herself a writer.  And so it begins.  (Thanks Joe.)

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