a heartwarming guide to hereisdistant.co.uk

I was browsing read.write.as and came across someone who seems to read it like the morning paper or their twitter timeline. To be fair, I find read.write.as more appealing than both.

It reminded me why I write to the internet and not to a notebook. It's not just because my handwriting is terrible and I get impatient writing long words without the help of a red squiggly line.

If I was at the pub on a Tuesday at 10pm, then I'd want people to listen my spiels, and so the same is true as I lie alone in my double bed. I want real people to read my stuff.

But I need them to like it. When I read writings written about reading read.write.as, right away I read into it that my writing is being looked down on by better writers as wrong not right, right?

This shows how my self-worth is externally dependent, even though I know it shouldn't be. I have been writing this blog for both myself and a fictitious audience who love my work. But when an audience revealed itself as real, I felt genuine feelings of inadequacy. Hell, I don't even have a blogging voice.

So this is a reminder that I don't need the approval of others. I blog to to make sense of my world, and to expend some creativity. I don't vomit-blog; I proofread and genuinely treat this as a piece of work to be proud of. There's only so much creativity possible in my daytime spreadsheets, as pretty as I make them.

So I would find it personally valuable if anyone reading has some critique for me, and if they could please leave it in the comments section.

Oh wait, there isn't one...

hereisdistant.co.uk contains a search for a better version of me, through self-pitying anecdotes and humourless introspection. hereisdistant.co.uk is me writing about what I want to write about.