As a writer, I have an enemy. A nemesis, if you will, who insists on sabotaging my increasingly rare creative outbursts. Let's call him Steve. Steve is self-doubt incarnate. Steve is the voice in my head that whispers “No, what you're doing is wrong.” whenever I start writing. “People will think less of you if they read it,” he says. “Why not do something else to take your mind off it? Play some video games, perhaps?”
Steve is kind of a dick.
I know perfectly well that was Steve tells me is a pile of manure. I know that it doesn't matter what random internet people think of me or my writing. I didn't start this blog to gain fame and fortune. I started it to get better at writing. I'm well aware of my shortcomings, and that I still have many years to go before I can start resembling anything like a proper writer. But I'll never get there if I don't practice, Steve.
Furthermore, I am becoming increasingly sure that enabling ads was a bad idea. I find myself constantly checking my pageviews and how many people have clicked on my ads. Suddenly, it's become about the money. I don't want it to be about the money.
Remember back in the days? When I first started posting? I was sure I'd post a story every single day. It quickly changed to 5 days a week. Then at least 3 days a week. At least once a week. And now, I realize that I'm updating for the wrong reasons. I'm updating to get more views. More money. More internet fame. Enough, I say! No more ads, no more fishing for hits. I write because I love writing, and It's time I started to act accordingly.
On a lighter, less stupid note: Short people.