June 24th 2015
Today I wrote a blog post for somebody else. It was a post about football/soccer/futbol, depending on your geographic location, which is why I didn’t want to upload it onto this blog. I don’t want this blog to be about football, because this blog is about me.
Obviously I’d only suggest you read it if you have any interest in football, if you don’t, then you should just continue reading this post instead.
I plugged the piece quite a bit on Twitter because I wanted as many people as possible to read it, but I was scared. I was scared that people would tell me that it was bad, that I wasn’t any good at writing. It was the first time I’d ever written anything like that, so to be honest, I thought it’d be awful.
But it went down really well, I got a lot of positive comments about it which included such compliments as ‘easy read’ and ‘enjoyable’ and ‘very good’ what I really wanted, oddly, was criticism. But I didn’t get any. The closest I got to being criticise was when someone said it started quite slowly, but the rest of it was fantastic.
I’ll take that.
It was just weird to have people read something I’ve written.
Obviously I’m aware that people read these day to day posts, but this felt different. This felt more official. I’m always terrified of people reading my stuff, because I’m terrified of the thought of it not being good enough.
If I want to write for a living, I guess I’ll have to get used to people reading what I write. In fact, I think it’s kind of necessary.
Until tomorrow, one final plug.