I prefer to write with pen on paper. There's no way for corporations, governments, or individuals to know what I write that way. But I'm typing this on the computer, my data tracked, and I'll publish this to the blog. So much for privacy.

For 3,802 days straight, I've written three Morning Pages by hand on paper. Thats' 11,406 pages no one is likely ever to see. What's the point of keeping that private?

My writing group sometimes ask if I'm going to gather my poems, find an agent, and try to publish. I suppose I should. More than Morning Pages, the poems are meant for others. But the work to publish feels like time away from other things and I'm focused now on writing and shaping of them, on the craft. For once, I don't need to put them out into the world and be told I'm a good boy.

Private writing focuses my attention on my motivations. I don't want to brag about the streak of Morning Pages as I did for years. There's nothing noble in the streak any more than getting out of bed and making coffee each morning. It's just a thing I do for me. I've gotten past needing to impress anyone else with it or even to explain the motivation to myself.

I may someday move to publish my poems. That may be what I want to do. I'll wait until I'm not chasing approval, until it's not about my ego. That's no way to overcome the habits of trying to satisfy others. I can overcome my traumas mostly in private and then see what I'm ready to do.

As for this switch from private pen and paper to public blog, I wanted it available for others to read. I'll likely never know if it has been read and so that can't be the motivation for me any more. It's enough to feel good without understanding all the reasons behind it. It's enough to accept the tension between private and public and know that I live somewhere between the two and moving back and forth as need be.