I’m doing a special series of guest posts this week on Remarkablogger. I’ve invited several up-and-coming bloggers to describe how they got started in blogging, how it helps their business, and how blogging helped them grow as a human being.
Writer Dad is Sean Platt, and he has come from out of nowhere to occupy a place in many a feed reader and inbox. His earnestness and excellent writing are a great combo. He blogs at Writer Dad.
Three months back, I found myself deep in the middling of a great in between. I’d finished a draft of my first novel, had a few things lying on an agent’s desk awaiting judgment, and was searching for a way to sharpen my voice.
The daily exercise of maintaining a blog, I believed, would both afford me challenge and improve my writing. When we wish to lose the soft stuff which gathers around our middles, we should be prepared to put our back to the floor, for sit-ups every morning.
Before Writer Dad, most everything I wrote was penned in isolation. Few people outside my family knew I was writing at all. The idea that my thoughts might eventually reach the eyes of others was alluring. It would take a while, sure, but I was prepared for the wearying work of writing then waiting.
That, however, was not my experience at all. By my third week, the blog was averaging twenty comments per post. To me, that kind of instant feedback was unprecedented.
I fed the fire of comments. The comments, in turn, fueled everything else.
I’m a big believer in the power of praise. I make sure my children know each day how highly I think of them. It makes them want to do more, and try harder. This is human nature. It’s in our DNA to please, especially those who love us most. Part of a blog’s magic is immediate response, and I’ll be honest, dozens of digital high fives did delightful things for the writer inside me.
The more people said they liked what I was doing, the harder I worked to improve. Like a mutual fund, I made contributions, which after time, grew by their own velocity. Having a blog pushed my writing immeasurably further than it would have traveled on its own. I’m writing this post ten weeks from the starting gate; I’m far from the finish line.
When we write, we discover what’s inside us, bubbling beneath the surface, about to erupt.  By getting it down, we’re learning about ourself. E.M. Forster said, “How can I know what I think, till I see what I say?†Word.
The next few months are transition for me. At the end of the year, I’m closing the doors on my current business, and trading it for a new one, built with the clay and straw of infinite language. Things are going well, and I expect they’ll get better. I landed a guest post on Copyblogger, which I never expected in a million years, along with a handful of opportunities which will unfold into the coming calendar.
I didn’t enter blogging with pie in the sky expectations. I went in with a willingness to work hard, and learn from my mistakes (of which, there have been plenty). Writing is discovery; truly know yourself, and you should know what you want to do. After that, it’s up to you to go and do it.
Be sure to visit Writer Dad and follow him on Twitter (maybe he’ll actually tweet something).