Stereotyping Myself ???

images5Last few months I have encountered a new confusion. When I started writing for my blog, I was not worried about the readers or audience. In fact I was not very much aware of the blog thing. It started all because of curiosity and some hidden agenda.

Slowly and slowly I could see my blog stats improving and assumed people were reading my blog. And now a days, steadily there are around 30-40 readers who hit my blog on a daily basis (please don’t laugh at the number of hits!!!), and I also assume they read my posts and don’t just visit my blog.

Anyway, it is not about the number of reader, it is about appreciating the writings. I am just concerned about the type of readers who are reading my stuff. Most of my blog readers are silent types. They don’t comment anything or show their presence in any way. I don’t mind it. The concern is whether the posts are worth writing? What are they thinking after reading it? Is it really making sense or it is just a pure waste of time?

The problem with me is that I want to be a perfectionist in my own sense, and I stop doing things which I feel are not good enough to satisfy my own ego. I don’t want the readers to just read my stuff and forget the next day. I want them to think about it. I want people to be sensitive around me. But, I hardly know what his happening?

So when I think about it deeply, I get more confused and disturbed. How do I know that what I am writing is good enough? Some people suggested the use of smart techniques like SEO and others to get more visitors, but still then I will not know who is reading my posts? When I was writing to satisfy my ego it was a different issue altogether, but now I am liking the way readers are coming to my blog and reading my posts.

My intention of targeting a niche market (the market that thinks like me and feel relatively deeply about life) is more or less on the right track. But, I want to know more. I want to know whether the thoughts I am having are good enough to understand life. Before writing my posts, I was not concerned about other people thoughts as I never knew that there were people who think like me. But now since I know that there are people who like to read what I think, I am getting more impatient to know more. How do I do it?

I am like my readers, shy and silent types. I keep the silent face hidden from others and somewhere I don’t feel like sharing my inner thoughts with common people as I feel I will not be suitably appreciated and instead mis-understood by many. But then blogging is giving it a different meaning.

I grew up in a society which believes in stereotypes. If you are ‘this’ then you have to behave like ‘this’ and if you are ‘that’, you have to behave like ‘that’. And my issues is, I don’t want to be this or that. I just want to be ‘me’. And it is difficult, and far more difficult to make people understand all this. This internet is creating platform which is making everything confusing. Someone in USA or Australia or in Malaysia is reading my post. How do I know what is he thinking after reading it?

As somewhere the agenda of keeping my readers intact and make them come again to my blog is disturbing my thoughts. I want to write more like I was writing or was trying to write, and somewhere this is a disturbing trend. Am I trying to be like what other people want me to be? Am I trying to please some unknown people in my life? Am I now trying to stereotyping myself as the writer?

Rather confusing thoughts. I have seen many authors killing their creativity just trying to stereotype themselves, and in the meantime removing the originality of their thoughts. Am I also suffering from the same syndrome? Am I also trying to make things more complex than they are just to come out with a different thought, a different post? Well, I will never know.

What can be more pathetic than to stereotype myself ‘the writer’, the way other people want than to be genuine and unique? But then, I am just me. I can’t be different than me or the writer, whether I stereotype myself or not. I am the same in this one life.

Or, do I really have one life?

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