I've spent weeks agonising about this website and trying to work out how to set it up. Last night I messaged my special women on What's App and asked for help. 'I have to produce a webpage as part of my writing course, but I don't know what to call it.'
'Terri Seddon Writer,’ one says. I feel weak, flakey inside.
Then they ask for more information. I explain that I've been looking at clever quotes to find a name. They say 'Go back a few steps. Is this supposed to be theoretical or practical? Why make a webpage?'
Why indeed? I outline my ideas. My digital footprint is academic, but I've been experimenting with creative writing. A website is a way of moving forward from that divided life. It's somewhere to put stuff I write. It may even help me re-balance my sense of self. And with a huge stretch of my imagination, I can almost see words as a gift.
But a website claims space and that feels unbelievably pretentious. Identifying as a 'writer' makes me feel like a fraud, although I’ve written things all my adult life.
'Own it', they advise.
'Write the website for someone else.' 'Don't make it so esoteric that it doesn't mean anything to anyone except you. Remember KiSs - keep it simple stupid 😂😁💪.'
So, this morning I flex my muscles and step up to this nightmare. First, I work out how to create a new email account. This takes some time. Then I set up an Instagram terriseddonwriter account, which takes even longer. I download Vivaldi, a web browser, because it lets me use Instagram from my laptop. Finally, I turn to Wix and add ‘words’, 'walking' and ‘wonder’ as keywords that define my life.
And suddenly I can see that walking is my way of living –– it's a pace by pace movement that takes me forward through dilemmas and divisions.
It’s late now, well into the afternoon. Time has flown, again. But I’m thankful to my special women who gave me a spine.
And to them, I gift a quote from Virginia Woolf, which I discovered on the wonderful Brain Pickings website[1]. Her words capture how I feel right now and what I’ve learned today.
“I don’t believe in ageing. I believe in forever altering one’s aspect to the sun.”
Footnotes
[1] Popova, Maria 2020. Virginia Woolf and the paradox of the soul and the consolations of growing older, Brain Pickings, brainpickings.org/2015/02/06/virginia-woolf-soul-aging/ , viewed 15/4/20.
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