To be a successful as a blogger who has chosen the "personal journal" category to write under, I can't hold back. When it comes to the internet, I don't owe anyone my social life, but to be a great writer is more than being a great reader. It is being able to take great risks. I risk unintentionally hurting the feelings of others or embarrassing people I care about. I have so much I want to share with the world but I don't want to hurt anyone.
I suppose if I change names to protect the privacy of certain people who I literally cannot write about because if their boss or co-worker could sniff around the Google machine and the last thing I want is someone losing their job over some unsavory, off-the-cuff observations or anecdotes of mine.
I've been wanting to turn my journals into a book ever since I started writing a diary when I was first grade. Even my father said I should do it (with discretion, of course). I have so much to tell. Years and years of trying so hard to find out exactly who I am. It's raw. That's the best way I can describe my journals. Raw. Especially after I fell in love with Anais Nin. Should I create an expurgated version of my life and wait until certain "characters" have left this world in order to publish the full truth? If my family cannot take what I have written, I suppose I should warn them not to read it. There is a lot that has been held back from them. Maybe the truth will set me free and the burden of my past will be lifted.
I have been deliberating this for long enough.
Semi-autobiographical. I believe this is my best bet. Lord knows I am good with making up characters on the internet.
I feel good about this decision.