So, for our writing class prompt today, we were asked to write a letter to our target audience. This presented a conundrum as I have never really thought about who I am actually writing for because, at this point, I would be happy with just one person reading my work. (Thank you to the one person who is reading this.)
Last night ,while I was procrastinating on getting the assignment complete, a flutter outside drew my attention. Nestled in the crook of the tree base fumbled a baby bird or fledgling, for those that prefer the proper name. In the midst of learning how to fly, this little one was hopping around the tree and yard, while his frantic parents tried to keep a steady eye on him. I lingered at our picture window unnoticed as the family went about their business. A curious chipmunk along with a baby bunny snacked nearby while cautiously observing this awkward fledgling. I was mesmerized with all the activity in the yard and realized one thing – I am my target audience.
I write for me and, frankly, I live for me. That really sounds odd, but my theory is if we live and even write, for the pleasure of others, we aren’t getting much in return. In fact, it sounds quite empty to me. Writing my column is for others. Sure, I get accolades, nasty emails, and a paycheck, but the enjoyment that is felt is when I get to write uninhibited. This writing class not only encourages my organic words, but it demands it. Living that way is fantastic too, but we all get stuck in the cycle of “people pleasing” and all kinds of other bullshit that take the wind out of the sail.
When I shed the cloak of how other people perceive me or how they think I should be, I regain the esteemed presence of the audience of one……uninhibited and completely organic. Free to express myself for the mere delight of me.
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