Every time I have to write a new blog I feel as if I’ve been tossed into a black hole. I don’t know where to start or what to write about. Sometimes my ideas are so clear the blog writes itself, but unfortunately that happens so infrequently it’s hardly worth mentioning. More often than not, I sit in front of a blank computer terrified that I’ll never be able to come up with anything ever again. Melodramatic, I know, but true.

The problem isn’t so much that I don’t have things to write about. I don’t quite know how I want to approach the topic. My lack of a point of view (POV) creates an identity crisis of sorts. I’m unsure of who I am as writer.

English: Logo for Food Network (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Recently, I’ve been hooked on the show, Food Network Star. Fifteen contestants compete to be Food Network’s next star. An existing Food Network chef coaches each of them on how to filter their culinary skills through a specific POV. That POV determines their approach to every challenge in the competition. Several contestants, who were excellent chefs, were booted off the show because they didn’t have a POV. They lacked the necessary framework with which to present their skills.  One particular guy felt that conforming to a POV limited him, but in reality it made it difficult for the viewers to understand the context for his cooking.

I totally get his resistance to boxing himself with just one POV. There’s this belief that you reach a broader audience when you’re more of a generalist. But perhaps having a specific POV helps the chef or the writer put the world into context. So for example if the writer is an activist, every thing they write creates awareness and attempts to move the reader to some form of social change. When an incident like the shooting in Colorado happens, they know exactly how they will approach the topic. They question gun control or our acceptance of violence in video games and movies.

Years ago, I would have described my POV as having coffee with a girlfriend, casually sharing information and anecdotes. But that was twelve years ago and I’m not sure that quite fits who I am today. Now I tend to be much more introspective which is why I love journaling. When I journal, I can let my mind flow which ever way it wants to go. I dive deep into my thoughts without worrying whether or not they will offend a reader. I’m willing to write with abandon and truth. My POV is plain and simple Kim. It’s like sitting around my house in a t-shirt without a bra on and a pair of cut-off shorts. Comfortable, but not anything I’d be seen wearing in public.

But when I write for public consumption, I worry about what people will think of me and whether or not my writing will be good enough. The concern about being good enough sends my POV into a free fall. I get hung up on who I need to be in order to make the best possible impression, based on other writers who seem to have gotten it right.

I’ve had this problem in other parts of my life. It happens whenever I’m unsure of myself. I grapple with who I need to be. A great example of this happened several years ago when my husband was invited to the executive management retreat with his company. He wasn’t on the team yet, but it was believed that the invitation was a stepping-stone to a promotion. So the stakes were high for both of us.

For my part, I felt I had to present the POV of a New England executive wife. Ridiculous, I know. How do you go from growing up in the suburbs of Detroit to a New England anything? Nonetheless, I hit the stores to buy the clothes for my new role. I bought dresses that looked as Connecticut/Jackie O as I could find. Completely unlike anything else I owned. The whole time I was at the retreat I felt like a fraud. I was trying too hard, and I’m pretty sure it was obvious.

Two years ago, my husband got that promotion. So once again we attended the executive management retreat. I felt as if I was suffering from cultural whiplash. The day before the retreat I had been on the West Coast hanging out with my writer friends, talking about the writing process and our newly earned MFAs. I wore my favorite jeans, a shirt from my favorite boutique and flip-flops. Stylish, but very much Kim. And twelve hours later, I was cast into a pool of executives and their wives. I couldn’t see straight.

I don’t even remember what I wore. I wasn’t playing a part, but I still wasn’t myself. I decided I would not to go to another retreat, because I just didn’t fit in.

But recently it occurred to me that the retreat itself wasn’t the problem. I had this vision of what an executive wife should be and tried to fit myself into that role. I wasn’t being true to my POV. I’m a writer who happens to be married to guy with an executive position, not an executive wife.  And then I asked myself : why would I throw away four days in New England eating lobster over an identity crisis? So this year I went, ate lobster and acted like Kim. And it turns out I had a great time.

The panic I face every time I go to write a blog comes down to being uncomfortable with my own POV. Other writers may have a POV that seems better than mine, but I will never be able to write like another writer. My writing is always going to work the best when I write authentically from my own plain and simple Kim POV, encouragement through introspection.