When you're working alone, you can make mistakes. Big mistakes. And nobody cares. Nobody knows.
I'm sitting down at the computer overwhelmed by the uncertainty of audience. I'm thinking about the two technology trains that I struggled through, first when Google Drive wasn't working (pretty tough when your topic is centered around Google Drive) and then a video editing one where we couldn't get a decent solution for a time stamp. I'm thinking about my Wednesday evening classes and wondering if I'm doing a decent job teaching pre-service teachers. I'm thinking about all the people who have just started Write About, wondering if it's working for them. I flip to my YouTube channel and find myself asking questions about audience and reach. I'm wondering what my fellow professors will think of the technology tutorials I am releasing each Tuesday. There's a certain fear and uncertainty in putting your work out there to an audience, because ultimately it might suck. That's true of teaching a lesson, recording a podcast, doing a video, or writing a story. The moment you go for an audience, you're entering a risky place where rejection might happen. So, my solution for this day off has been to make do something creative for an audience of one. See, my son recently came up with a graphic novel concept and I want to make it for him. So, I'm going to work on writing it and drawing it. For all the talk of authentic audience, I'm convinced that sometimes the answer is to walk away from the audience and be alone. Write in a journal. Make a video for one other person. Sketch in a notebook for the simple delight of sketching. Make something for no functional purpose, with no audience in mind. Just be alone and create. Because that act is ultimately what helps you find your voice again and reorient yourself so that you can make something new for an audience.
