The Terror of Publish

I’m surrounded by people who love to blog. Ok. I’m surrounded by people who blog effortlessly. I have trouble relating to the skill of effortless blogging. However, I do love to journal. Yup, paper and pen, every, every night since I was twelve. Yup, turning twelve, now that was a big yearnew school, three inches, two cup sizes, the Dragonlance book series. I had loads I needed to share. So, I wrote. And I still write. I write and write and write. But writing here… writing here, for instant publication is horrifying.

I am a mom, and I am daughter. I am a senior ELA, Arts Ed, History and Outdoor Ed educator. I am a ten-year old kid, held back a grade, and I am a University grad with great distinction. I am an adult learning with a learning disability, and oh, I am most often too terrified to push “publish” without a peer edit. Truth? I rarely push publish without an edit of my work. 

Today is time for push.

Why now? 

I love writing. I love sharing. 

A month ago, I was on my way to a PD event. After eight hours in a mini-van with three passionate educator-strangers and too much coffee, reflection was a certainty. I mused how effortlessly my daughter blogs, “Mom, fifteen more minutes, I just have to post.” I mused how I wished I could model that same kind of effortless on-line connecting for my students and mourned how absent I’d become from the on-line world.

I’ve been tweeting about where I was when I began my blogging journey, sure transparency could not happen in the digital world.  

Why push now?

Well, I love writing. I love sharing. But most importantly, I love learning. Time to move into that tricky transparency and…


5 thoughts on “The Terror of Publish

  1. I think that people who say that writing is easy are, well, not being terribly honest. Or they’re writing the safe things, the words that don’t need reading.

    But when it feels hard, and when there’s danger in hitting submit, then that’s where the exciting and scary and important words lurk.

    I struggle to write, but it’s worth doing. I’m appreciative of your reminder tonight that there’s some writing, important writing, that I’ve been avoiding, and should be getting to.

    Thanks for the push.

  2. This post reminds me of the very first time I had an entry on a blog, or a podcast, or a…
    I felt like if I was going to publish something, it had to be profound and earth shaking. Then I came to the realization that while some of my ideas might strike a chord, I needed to get over myself and plunge in! Thanks for sharing your trepidation and your story! I’m currently leading a group of teachers through this process of being more open, transparent and sharing and I am sure this will be meaningful to many!

  3. We just finished SLC. I’m amazed how sharing the hard writing has helped my students grow in their own writing. I’m amazed how not sharing my hard writing here, has not helped them to want to share their hard writing here… ohh the PD of that!

  4. Hi Bud, these last few days I’ve been thinking about your comments “when it feels hard, and when there’s danger in hitting submit, then that’s where the exciting and scary and important words lurk.” I posted recently about two of my former students who just love their mom. I wrote the post at 1 a.m. while at a New Years Eve party. My friends and our kids were playing a rousing game of cards, but I broke out my lap top and setting aside distraction, the story spilled out. In 30 minutes my first draft found 800 words and, more importantly, I liked what I wrote.
    You also shared that, like me, you too “struggle to write, but [believe] it’s worth doing.” I finally understand the similarities between my earliest blog posts and my recent one about my kids. In them, I’m writing about what is exciting and scary and important – to me! I’m not jumping through perceived professional blog hoops. I’m a story teller. I’m a reflective practitioner and I love weaving a tale, that’s more than just my way, it’s my joy.
    The beauty of story-making offers us sense of place and offers us muse of memory. How did I forget that I’m just a big kid, and this is my blog? Share the stories that hang on and ‘niggle’ us, my 80 year old mentor used to encourage. Perhaps then those words that lurk, as you say Bud, will begin to feel like home.

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