It’s been quite a few moons since I’ve launched my blog, and just about two years since I’ve recommitted myself to writing more. As such, I’ve spent a good amount of time thinking about this Substack and my writing and what it all means.
While it hasn’t been smooth sailing—far from it, actually—I’m glad to be here.
A corner of the Internet
One of those perpetual online rules-of-thumb/branding tips is to have your angle, your niche.
So as I’ve put this blog together, I’ve noodled a bit, considering the different things I could wax poetic about. Perhaps my writing would be solely about books and reading. Those are nice things.
Or, maybe, I could be a digital theologian, opining on the latest encyclicals for the everyday Catholic. Also great.
Yet, as I sat in front of my computer willing myself to write for a particular niche, it all seemed a bit performative, and the impostor syndrome was the only thing bouncing around my mind.
And lo, the creative juices were zapped, and I entered a drought. Spoiler alert: it’s a pretty rough spot to find yourself in, especially because you were the person who put yourself there.
Niches are the thieves of joy
I thought: What if my writing is more than a niche? What if I’m more than that?
Why am I, a self-proclaimed creative, constantly putting myself into a box? Boxes are rigid; creativity isn’t.
In this creative pursuit, there’s something very real about just letting your work flow. It’s taken a while for me to even get to this point, but trying to plan and scope out the whole “vision” of a creative endeavor (like this Substack) just started to take the joy out of it all.
Maybe you’re experiencing that, too, in whatever it is you enjoy doing.
And so here I am, writing whatever it is my heart feels called to reflect on. When I’ve put the branding and the “find your audience” thoughts aside, I found my fingers flying across my keyboard and actual thoughts pouring out.
Who knew that taking the pressure off would break open my writing? What a concept!
The common denominator
In this digital garden I’m tilling, I’m starting to notice a recurring theme, miraculously.
The thing I found was that my niche…was me. The thing binding my work together was that I was its creator (and that I love to stuff music references into my essays). Jokes aside, this insight is uniquely mine.
Putting it all together
“Great, Christina,” you might be saying, “so you did find your niche after all.”
Well, sort of.
It’s taken me two years to come to this point of realizing that there’s something unique I’m bringing to this platform, and while I don’t have it all figured out yet, nowhere near polished with a tidy bow, it’s still worth sharing.
And if that’s how you’re feeling, just know you’re not alone. You have something to share, whether it’s art or music or your reaction to a new movie. Don’t hide it!
At the end of the day, my manifesto is this: I don’t want to add to the noise. I don’t want my words to be an echo chamber; rather, I want you to take a step beyond the white noise, the monotony of everyday busyness. Go, notice, and do.
I hope my words invite you to appreciate what’s in front of you in the here and now. It’s a gift, and you are a gift.
I’m glad you’re here!