I lack focus. Except when I don’t, and then I get tunnel vision. Until I get distracted. And then I lack focus.

Beginning to see the problem here?

I’ve tried blogging before. I’ve tried big ambitious projects before. The problem is, I’ll start a science blog and after a few weeks discover that writing about science is not appealing and I just really want to post a new recipe I invented. I’ll start a food blog and find that all I can think of are intersectional feminist rants. To be successful, you need a niche, an appeal, a category. But if I pick one thing, I exclude all the other things I’m interested in.

I briefly entertain the idea that I could maintain multiple platforms and post regularly about each of my interests, but even my finely-honed skills of self-delusion don’t stretch quite that far. Instead, I become paralyzed by my choices, fail to write anything at all, admit defeat, and decide instead to crawl under a blanket and binge watch Hannibal.

This cycle of write-distract-freeze-give up repeats approximately twice a year. Sometimes more if I’m feeling particularly creative.

So I’ve decided the only way I’m ever going to make progress is to embrace my lack of focus, unabashedly. This blog will not have a theme. Or a topic. Or a niche. Maybe it will find one eventually. Maybe I will discover my one true passion in life. Or at least on the internet. Maybe it will remain a disastrous mish-mash of whatever has caught my interest this week. Maybe I will never have any following and labor in muddled obscurity till the end of WordPress itself.

But I’ve decided I don’t care. Writing is better than not writing, even if it’s just distracted fragments which I mistakenly imbue with significance to placate my own narcissism.

So there will be science. There will be recipes. There will be pictures of my dog. A lot of pictures of my dog. There may be fiction. There will definitely be memoir-worthy essays about my conservative homeschooled childhood. There will be reviews of books, movies, hiking trails, restaurants, and knitting patterns. There might even be dark corners of my psyche revealed that even I have yet to discover.

My only rule is that I have to write whatever I am inspired to write and not judge myself for it. I can’t over-think it and I can’t worry about a lack of direction.

If you’re still reading after that embarrassingly aspirational word vomit, good luck to you.  You’ll need it.


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