It’s my 100th blog post. Wild, huh? Two days ago, I sat in my recliner, the Chromebook on my lap. I sat there thinking about what I should write for my 100th blog post. Nothing. There was nothing I could think of that night. Last night. And maybe today, too. I took the problem to Instagram. There, I took a selfie and briefly talked about much the same.

I left it to my audience: what should I write about?

Truth be told, I wasn’t expecting any answers as I have had zero engagement on this site; it’s not much better on Instagram, too.

But, I did. I got one answer. I’m grateful anyone responded, actually. I’m also grateful for the depth behind their answer.

Write about what you want most to give to the world through your writing. Tell us what your “words” want to give those who read them. Why do you write and what does it also give you? Write about these things and share them with us. Give us your “insides” 🥰

Frootful Things (Instagram)

Great answer, right?

What do I most want to give to the world through my writing?

That it’s messy? While having the basics of writing down is a must, there are no rules after? That you can’t edit a blank page (Jodi Picoult)?

Writing is cathartic. It’s an outlet for when there is too much going on in my brain. It’s an exercise.

I know you were expecting a better format than this for my 100th blog post. Believe me, I was too. Oh, well.

I honestly have not ever thought about the level of impact I would hope to one day achieve. As you can tell, this chaotic format in this post is one example of that fact. While I’m sitting here in my office space, listening to a Twitch streamer and an indie genre station on Spotify, maybe I can come up with something.

There it is.

When I started out on this writing journey, I thought less about what impact I would have and more about what kind of stories could my daughter be excited about owning herself. That’s a lie. Somewhat. My “first official” author credit belongs to Over The Creek. I began writing OTC the same week I was told I am going to be a father. As life wedged its way in, writing became more and more sparse. Weeks went by. Then months. Then an entire year went by without any writing. I partially blame the pandemic. Then again, that could’ve been the perfect opportunity. Moving on.

If I am responsible for some kind of impact, it would be for the reader to see themself in the story. It’s someone they can truly resonate with. No baiting of any kind. The earlier they can feel a little more hopeful for the future, the better. That’s what I think I’m aiming for. It seems astronomically difficult all the while feeling so simple. Weird.

I remember being the kid constantly bullied because everything felt so loud, confusing, and fast. It’s no one’s fault but the bullies not understanding what was still considered “new” in the 90s/00s. Looking back as an adult, there might have been some, uh, gender-based confusion, too. In 2016, I came out as bisexual, but it wasn’t until early 2022 that I came out as genderfluid. I’m still learning. The point here is that the future is always uncertain. And there may still be kids like the ones I dealt with growing up that made life that much more difficult. If any of the books I would like to finish writing have any impact, it would be for teaching them to never give up hope. That comfort and peace come in many positive forms. Again, it feels both astronomically difficult all the while feeling easy.

I’m rambling on at this point.

That’s it for your 100th blog post.

This feels a little bit like therapy now.

In 160 characters or less, tell me what you would go back and tell your teenage self.