Anatomy of an Internet post

How I write the perfect blog post in two minutes.

This is the the beginning. The part where I stare at the screen. The part where I tell myself, “Write something. Anything.” The part where I wonder why I write, why I ever wrote. Where I wonder why anyone would want to read a goddam thing I’ve ever written.

This is the part where I write a sentence then delete it. Then retype the exact same sentence. Then delete it again. Then stop. Click around the page a few times, expecting inspiration to find me, expecting my muse to pay a visit. “It’s open!” I think, like she’s knocking at the door. No one enters.

This is the pithy quote I paraphrase and block out in the middle of the text.

This is the part where I check the stats of previous stories, looking for encouragement. By which I mean validation. Because on the Internet my self-worth is defined by how many views I get.

This is the part I highlight because if there’s one part you should take away, it’s this.

This is the part where I go back to the beginning and reread everything I’ve already written to “make sure it’s okay.” A bad habit. Because once I stop momentum, it’s hard to get going again. A rolling stone gathers no moss. I am all moss. I am deleting that cliché as soon as I find something better.

This is the part where I think, “Yeah, maybe this is something. Maybe I am a writer. I can do this. I can make a living at this. It’s not so hard.”

This is the part where I panic because I am wrong. Because everything I’ve written is worthless. Because, as I thought, nobody wants to read my writing. Because I have nothing to say. Because you can’t really make a living being a writer. Because if a man is writing in the middle of the forest and nobody reads his work, is he still a writer?

Anyway, this is the part where I conclude the article with “Anyway…” because I never know how to end articles. And so, because I have no ending — I just stop typing.