all I’ve got.

I’ve kicked around blog ideas for years. I wrote religiously on Xanga in middle and high school, detailing all my seemingly important emotional ramblings and favorite song lyrics. In college, I switched over to BlogSpot, creating a blog, posting a few times, then abandoning it only to rinse and repeat with a new idea and blog a year or two later. Nothing ever stuck. I wasn’t ever deeply passionate about any of the ideas and they dissipated into mere memories almost as quickly as they appeared as ideas in my head.

Once I graduated and became a full time technical writer, writing for myself seemed out of reach. By the time the work day was over and I’d written 3-5 insurance-related articles, the last thing I wanted to do was continue staring into the screen to write more. But then, as all things do, that job came to an end, and I found the resolve to start yet another blog. I wrote recipes, I shared reviews of local spots, and I delved into my vegan lifestyle. Once again, life happened. I stopped writing. 

I’ve self-identified as a writer since I was a child. I’ve written poetry, I’ve written songs, I’ve written long, intimate journal entries to myself. I’ve written short stories in my head, written raps about my animals, written the beginnings of a book. I’ve always identified as a writer – because I am one – but I’ve never actually committed to being one. I’ve never sat down with my idea, hashed it out, and resolved to stick with it no matter what. 

Last November, a blog idea popped into my head while training for a marathon. I was running a 16 miles on the Lady Bird Lake trail in downtown Austin when suddenly blog topics began flooding my brain. The blog name appeared in my head, with all of the context and fleshed out future posts spilling out in front of me. I quickly texted my husband “please buy me the domain allivegot.com” and kept running. Fortunately for me, he understands my penchant for random ideas and did as I asked before I even got home from the run. 

This blog has been sitting dormant for over a year, but unlike all my other blogs and writings, it didn’t disappear from my memory. It haunts me daily. Taunts me. Asks me why I’m not tending to it like I should be. Asks me why I’m not doing what my heart is calling me to do. Asks me why I’m pretending like I have nothing to say, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. So I’ve finally decided to listen. Decided to stop running away from my fear of failure, my imposter syndrome, and my identity as a writer.

I’m here. and I’m ready to write. I’m ready to give this blog all I’ve got.

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