You’ll write copy that comes from the deepest part of your soul. It’ll be flawless, taste like nectar, drip like honey, smell like coffee. Each sentence will be tailored with fine detail. You’ll pick each line with a purpose.
Your work will be a performance, an orchestra of letters, words and paragraphs with periods as the conductor. It’ll seem like a concert. The blooming of your work will look like a garden of tulips. You’ll put your heart on that page. And your precious readers will leave your blog feeling entertained, energized, happy, looking forward to next time.
You will stare at the blank page for ages. You’ll fight to piece each word. It’ll be like a jigsaw whose pieces you can’t fix. You’ll take ages to complete a sentence. It’ll feel like chewing chloroquine. Your brain will run out of its creative spark. You’ll keep the struggle for phrases and expressions going.
By the time you hit the “post” button, you’ll feel like an amateur who just ran a steeplechase. That’s the struggle of writing.
What you write will have a bad taste in the eyes of some of your readers. You’ll take a beating for what you’ve posted. People will feel offended. They’ll call you out on it. They’ll express their disappointment.
“That was irresponsible writing.”
“You were wrong.”
“You have no right to write that.”
“Who do you think you are? Mr. Know it All?”
“How dare you write things like that?”
“You are Christian, but you use swear words on your blog? How do you reconcile those two?”
You’ll be slapped in the face by that feedback. You’ll want to take a break from blogging. You’ll sit under a tree and think about your decisions. And when morning comes, you’ll tread carefully in your next post because you were scathed.