I composed an article recently. I just went on and on. When I went back to read it, I realized how negative I sounded. It was just a really long post bashing things I didn’t like. Something inside me just said, this wasn’t me.
I love ranting. I love criticizing and I love complaining. But, there’s a time and place for everything.
It’s good to talk about negative issues and unpopular topics. But my daughter always reminds me, don’t complain about things if you’re not going to do anything about it. And she’s just 12.
The wisdom of a 12-year old tells me that I should either do something about it or put up with it. Complaining only makes my own life miserable.
The same goes for my writing. I really don’t want to be the kind of person who only writes about problems. I’d like to be the kind of writer to also offer up solutions.
When I think about the kind of posts I like reading, I realize most of them are uplifting.
We have enough troubles in our lives and we bear that burden everyday. I don’t really need to unload my burden on my audience as well.
I think it’s ok to be personal, it’s ok to share an emotional or sad story. It’s even ok to go on the occasional rant. But, bashing other people or things you don’t like, is just depressing.
Of all the things I want to be, depressing is certainly not one of them.
Looking through a frosty window... 