I didn’t want to write this at My Friend Amy because I didn’t really want to stir anything up, but I kind of want an outlet?
Like, lately I’ve been thinking about blogging and why I do it, etc. and it’s not really something I want to give up, but book blogging itself is starting to feel like something that’s not really me.
I think strangely enough, it’s that I actually have no purpose in writing about most books. These days I’m lucky to finish a book a week. And out of all the books I read, maybe I actually want to talk about 1/4 of them. Which…that’s like a book review a month.
It’s just that the majority of books I read I really have nothing meaningful to say about them. A book has to spark something in me to get me to talk about, to touch on interesting themes or my life, etc. Otherwise I’m just saying a few essentially meaningless things–at least that’s how I feel.
And most reviews don’t get comments, which, we all know, but if I’m blogging to engage–and these days that’s the number one reason, it’s sort of pointless.
I don’t know, it’s just so weird, I don’t really know how this happened. I feel like I’m just bumbling along with my blog. Every once in awhile I want to write about something, but mostly I feel quite aimless with it, without motivation or purpose. I still do things out of habit, like accept author guest posts, etc. But I just don’t feel like I’m really a part of the book blogging world anymore, and I don’t just mean that I can’t keep up with the still thriving community, I mean that it’s something inside of me, too.
I still want to write things sometimes and sometimes just thinking about writing them makes me feel better even if I never do. I guess I’ve just lost my drive and it’s weird and I don’t know what I’m doing.