Words not wasted

The company whose host services I use for this blog recently sent me an email saying that my subscription would be up within 3 months. I guess this means that another year is about to have come and gone.

I still feel that I do not adequately utilise this space for my writing. It’s funny, how although I now work as a writer, I seem to have less to say in my personal writing spaces.

Perhaps it’s because I sort of pay more attention to self-censorship now. I do not pen down every single thought that comes to mind. I sift through it endlessly, contemplating whether or not it is something relevant and readable for the rest of the world. Whether it would benefit them at all to take in those words I desire to create.

I blame it on journalism, which in the course of duty causes us to ask tough, harsh questions about the relevance of the topics we desire to discuss and the effect which we hope to create through those words.

Then again, it’s easy to point fingers at any other thing that absolves me from the responsibility of being more intentional in shaping the path I would like to see my writing go towards.

I often ask myself whether I am happy writing the things that I usually write about. This tends to refer to what I write for work, since that is the bulk of what I write these days.

For the most part, the answer is yes. Despite the fact that I do not always have a personal interest in the subject matter that I cover, I do delight in the challenge of being able to present in words things I have seen, heard and experienced for the good of my fellow readers. That in itself is a joy and a reward.

But at the end of the day, I do this journalism gig as a means to survive, and I do feel a tinge of dissatisfaction in the fact that I have sort of settled for whatever I have right now. It is quite a comfortable place to be in, no doubt, and it affords me a public avenue to showcase my work and consistently build a portfolio and a reputation for myself.

Yet this is not the stuff that ignites my bones, that makes me feel that I have given of my best and that the world has benefitted from my effort. Sure, I deliver news of interest or importance to them. But I do not entertain, I do not evoke emotions nor inspire, and I am most certainly not moving them to action that will affect greater good in the world.

It’s time to reflect again on what I write for, and hopefully, to emerge more purposeful in the way I write not just for work, but in every area of my life. God has given me this gift of writing, and I hope I will be found to have disappointed Him in the way that I use it.

Does this necessarily mean that every piece I write needs to be morally and spiritually sound, and serious, and seeking to influence people? Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.

I guess I just need to work it out. I don’t want to look back and regret.

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