I created this blog nearly a year and a half ago at the urging of some family members. Since its inception I have loved nearly every minute of crafting posts, updating the blog, and watching my following grow ever so slightly month by month. It was never large, but dammit, did I take pride in every new follower gained or every day, week, and month I had a jump in page views. There is something to be said for slaving over your creation when it was nothing and watching it become something.
That “something” is what slowly corroded my will, passion, and resolve to analyze sports in the most meaningful way I could. It is what ate away at my desire to spend hours crafting essays I believed were unique, well written, and expressive. Allow me to explain what that “something” is.
I began writing about sports because it seemed like a logical extension of my passion for athletic games of all kinds. I began focusing all my energy on the blog as a means to an end. That end was a career in sports writing. Whereas this blog began as an extension of my passion for sports it evolved into my gateway to the world of sports writing. Working my way through college, enjoying the lifestyle but growing tired of the tedium of “J-school”, I began to think hard work on the blog would equate to instant super stardom in the sports world. “Why not me”? That is the idea that sustained me—that drove me to be better.
But as the months wore on, and I had yet to receive that call from ESPN (surprise, surprise), my desire to continue writing waned. And waned some more. And waned to the point I am at now. A war was waged in my head over the past several months. That war of ideas paralyzed my ability to pursue my craft. Writing just wasn’t fun anymore now that I was writing for a purpose rather than writing for my love of writing (That's a lot of writing!). I constantly thought about the originality of my work, wondered if it stuck out from the millions of other sports blogs that inhabit the internet. I voraciously consumed other blogger’s and columnist's work, and as I read I despaired that there wasn’t a place for me. How could I find my own niche? I’m still not sure I’ve found my niche. At this moment, I don’t really care. I have faith I’ll find it eventually.
A month and a half later, the war is subsiding. It’s not completely gone, but I’ve learned to take solace in the process rather than the end result. I’ve learned to stop believing that everything I put on paper will be perfect. I’ve learned to accept my failures and relish my successes. I finally realize that penning a few posts a week—no matter how in-depth or informative I believe they are—isn’t the golden key to the successful future I so desire. It’s all part of the process, and the process is a grind. At long last, I’ve been begun to enjoy the grind. I hope you will too.