Who do I write for?

This was one of the questions asked in a writing class I took last year. Who is your audience? Try to pick one person, and each time you write, write as if you’re talking to them.

I joined the course curious to learn more about writing in public. I wanted to tell my stories. Pieces of my life. I wanted to stop holding back and being afraid to be seen. And I was able to break through some walls. I feel good about the stuff I put out last year.

But it’s not the typical tone and style of folks in the Ship 30 for 30 scene. I don’t tend to enumerate ways of “how to do what” and “steps to take to get somewhere.” It’s just not me. I don’t even know if I’m interested in growing an audience or “having a community.”

All I know is that I’m compelled to write and share my stories. I’ve been doing it since 2003, when I first started blogging. I find joy in it. I find my own stupid stories amusing. I relish the process. I usually don’t know how my short pieces are going to end. I start somewhere with thought and a sly smile, then go on from there.

I really just write for myself.