I never imagined that I’d launch another personal blog ever again, especially not after my past attempts. It just felt like I could never sustain a writing project—or any creative project, for that matter—for more than a few weeks or a couple of months at a time. At one point, I even started blaming my undiagnosed ADHD. It’s a much easier pill to swallow than my shortcomings as a writer.
And yet, despite all that self-doubt, here I am. And on a new website, to boot.
Maybe this blog will fizzle out after a handful of posts. Or maybe this will be the writing project that will finally pull me out of my years-long writing slump. Who knows?
I have no expectations. For now, I just want to enjoy the creative process.
Even though I’ve been journaling regularly, it still feels like I haven’t written in ages. Perhaps it’s because I usually write by hand, be it on my tablet or notebook. Typing on a keyboard is a wholly different experience, one that feels familiar and foreign at the same time.
Staring in front of a blank document should terrify me, but I’m excited more than anything. The white page is a blank canvas; a fresh start, a place where art and magic can happen. The blinking cursor isn’t the onset of writer’s block; it signals possibilities and all the ideas waiting to be translated into words.
For now, I just want to dissect my brain and find a way to organize and make sense of my scattered thoughts.
Why static pages?
I’ve already dabbled in far too many writing projects, many of them about personal writing or blogging. Name a platform, and I’ve most likely already used it—Multiply, Blogspot, Wordpress, Tumblr, Reddit, Medium, Substack, the list goes on and on. I also have an array of private writing projects on various programs, from the good ol’ Word to Scrivener to Notion.
And I’m embarrassed to admit this, but yes: none of them truly panned out.
NOTEJournaling isn’t included in this whole debacle. I consider that an entirely separate practice, one that’s already been a constant element in my life.
I opted for static pages because I appreciate the simplicity and the freedom. I just want a place to dump my walls of text—nothing else. I didn’t need fancy features. More importantly, I wanted full control. I was done relying on a third-party platform to host my writings.
On that note alone, Substack—my latest platform—is already out of the equation. And as much as I love the site’s aesthetic and community, it’s too much noise and distraction. I don’t want to read anyone else’s thoughts, interact with the other users, or spark a conversation.
At its core, this writing project is essentially a digital diary, and I want it to be as private and personal as possible while still being published online. It’s public enough that I don’t mind if someone I know stumbles upon it. I’m not sharing anything extremely private or revealing, after all.
I wanted to publish my entries to keep myself accountable. I also love the idea that I’m baring my soul online for the whole world to read, but no one knows the site even exists. And because I’m a nobody, no one cares about what I have to say. I’m not saying this to be self-disparaging. In fact, it’s quite the opposite: I feel powerful, and I relish the anonymity. It feels oddly liberating in a way that I can’t put into words.
With that said, static pages seemed perfect for my needs.
The only downside is that setting up a static website has a learning curve. Although I’ve done it before, it was several years ago, and I don’t remember a single thing about it.
When I first toyed with the idea of tinkering with the command line all over again, I got overwhelmed and put it off for weeks, convinced I wouldn’t be able to pull it off a second time. I hadn’t even opened my GitHub in nearly five years.
But fate always has a way of messing with you.
When I finally sat down to work on my static site this morning, I was astonished that within a few hours, I’d already customized and deployed my blog for the whole world to see—and on its fancy domain, too. I also surprisingly enjoyed the process; it was nice obsessing over something new.
But all that hard work is just the first step. I’ve already laid down the foundations. Now, it’s time to sit down and actually do the work.
Let’s get writing, shall we?