I Used To Write For A Plastic Tub

We are a bit spoiled.  Yes?  Yes.

Used to be I sat at home and wrote.  Then I stuck every thing I wrote in a binder.  When the binder was full I stuck it in a plastic tub.  No one saw it.

Then I started using a computer.  I kept everything on a computer, filling up pages and files.  No one saw it.

Now, I write on a blog.  And sometimes ten, fifteen, fifty, maybe even eighty people see it.   In one day.  In one full day.

Through out the day I get these funny and fun little messages saying someone thinks I’m awesome and they decided to follow my blog.  I get lots and lots of them.

But then I look at that little graph of popularity and see that maybe ten or fifteen or thirty people read something I thought was brilliant.  Or funny.  Or emotional.

Then I get sad because only ten, or fifteen, or thirty, or fifty, or eighty people saw something I wrote.

I get a bit of a thrill when someone even likes it by hitting a little button that sends me a message telling me again how awesome I am.

Then someone writes me a response!  Someone takes the time to tell me how something I wrote struck them, made them think, laugh or cry.    And I appreciate the time they gave my writing.

Then I look at that little graph of popularity and get sad again.

Maybe….I should go back to writing for my plastic tub.   It didn’t have a popularity graph.


It didn’t have anything.

I would miss those ten, or fifteen, or thirty, or fifty, or eighty people who read something I wrote.

And I really appreciate those people who read.   As much as I appreciate the others who write.

I write.   I need to write.   I used to write and get no feedback.  Ever.  I have thousands and thousands of words that no one has ever seen.

I write.

I need to write.

For every written word there is a thought.    A thought that once shared may produce a myriad of other thoughts.   And what if the one thought you write, is read by one person who finds it brilliant, and it changes a moment, a life, or gives power to the powerless, love to the forlorn, joy to the sad, what if…..

What if the plastic tub held all of my words.  Forever.

That plastic tub is full enough.

I’ll write for me, first.

And then.

For  anyone who so honors me with a moment of their time.


You are much better than a plastic tub.  I mean this sincerely.