Want To Write? Then Don’t Start A Blog

Most people, when they think of online writing, they think of starting a blog.

It would have been a great thing if it was 1999.

Today it is very hard to drive traffic to a blog or a website.

You can do that if:

  • you have lots of advertising dollars and
  • you can write long, educational, SEO-infused articles that are also interesting to read.

The truth is, blogging, website, and online writing are three completely different things.

A blog is where people sequentially document and publish their thoughts, rants, and musings. In other words, a blog is your online journal that other people can read.

A website is where people find out who you are and what you do. In other words, a website is your business card.

Online writing is sharing your thoughts, stories, opinions, and insights on a platform that already has an active audience. In other words, online writing is about building an audience.

If you don’t have an audience, there is no point in having a business card or an online journal.

Go against the conventional wisdom and write on social media.

Build an audience.

Then go and build a website and write a blog.

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Photo by Maria Lupan on Unsplash

Story Of “Failed Abortion”


“My mother tried to kill me when I was in her womb.” revealed the red-haired woman in checkered multi-colored fleece jacket.

The year was 2005. I had joined the life-story writing group run by a local writer. Each week we were writing a story from our life. This week’s topic was “a most striking memory from your childhood.”

Aida (not her real name) wrote that her mother wanted to get rid of her even before she was born.

She was made to feel unwanted in lots of little ways. She never had new clothes, only the hand-me-downs from her siblings.

She was not allowed have bath first, only in the used water after her siblings had theirs. 

She was not sent to the private school like her siblings did, only to the public school.

Her mother made it clear since she was a child she was an unwanted child and called her “a failed abortion.”


Aida was born in Scotland to an alcoholic father and a stern mother. To date, she didn’t know why her mother didn’t want her. If her mother was a loving lady, one could assume that she wanted to spare her the beatings from her father. But she wasn’t. So Aida had to bear both — her father’s beating and her mother’s hatred.

All through her childhood, she tried to stay out of the house as much as possible, often eating at neighbors’ places. 

She learned to stay content with whatever little affection she got from her maternal grandmother, who was a much nicer human being than her mother. 

Since she didn’t have any toys of her own, from a very early age, Aida learned to amuse herself with the things other people discarded. The habit continued all through her life. She would often pick up discarded grocery lists from supermarkets and bring them to the writing sessions. “Have a look at this; why would you need three types of shampoos.” She would chuckle. 

After the Life Story Writing course, we all kept meeting in my home for the next 15 years, writing stories from our lives. It was then I had the opportunity to learn a lot more about her.

She was a teacher in her early life. Later she went to nursing college and became a nurse. The kind of nurse you would want on duty if you happen to be a patient. She did what was right by the patient, not what the book said or the young inexperienced doctors told her. 


God has given Aida more empathy than any other human being. Maybe that’s why she picked the kind of husbands she did. You know the ones who need “fixing.” Her first husband was a psychopath; she though she could change him with her love.

She couldn’t. He threatened to kill her and their three children. Aida migrated to Australia to escape from him. He followed her even though they were divorced. Her children were so traumatized that they all died in their fifties.

Aida lost all three of them within five years. She endured the pain of burying a child three times over. 

She married the second time and picked a man who has Asperger Syndrome. He is a seventy-year old child who can’t feel any emotions. 

Yet she keeps going. “I have decided to let life take its course,” she told me the other day on the phone. 

Each Monday, I ring her to check on her and send her food. We play a little word game where I ask her, “How are you?” 

And she responds, “Parts of me are okay.”

“Which part?” I would ask.

“Oh, my eyelashes and my toenails.” 

And I would laugh. Aida has advanced arthritis. He can’t even lie on the bed and sleeps sitting on a special chair. 


“How are you today, Aida.”

“Still present.”

“What’s special?” I asked her yesterday.

“Well, today is my birthday. I am 85 years old.”

“Happy birthday, dear friend.”

So much for a failed abortion, I thought. Both her mother and father diedd a long time ago, her psychopath husband long gone, even her traumatized children relieved from their ongoing suffering, Aida is still present.

Here is one of her poems which she wrote in one of the writing sessions in my home:

Her life was not her own since when 
She kitted fine but catty then. 
Next, she became his own wee hen 
A foxy lady by some men. 
A bitch as well as least by ten 
Hang on, my story you can’t tell,
I need to set things straight & yell
‘I’m too hot to handle!
Hot as hell!’
I set men on fire, might as well.

Life seems pleasant for a time,
Fair, fat and forty well 39′
Children grew up, the world sublime
And then all hell makes a paradigm
Shift, and I hear the new dictate.
‘Change, change, change you can’t escape.’

And I’m now a slave to this new estate.
I’ve become a dragon that men hate.
A dragon of a brilliant red,
Of fiery breath, it has been said.
I flash my tongue
‘You are so lazy,’ ‘Get out of bed’
Dragons don’t tolerate
Lids off toothpaste, and they hate
Toilet seat up, wet marks on floor
Near the toilet, they abhor
Hair in the bathroom sink for sure
And underpants left on 
you know where you lazy sod
Don’t sit in your chair like an ancient God

I’ve grown and changed, and now I’m done
Mother Nature you have had your fun
Leave me and my poor body alone.
Leave me at peace in my own wee home.

©Aida June 2014

Image by the author

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Empty-Nesters And Online Friendships


For the last five days, my house was a whirlwind of excitement. My older daughter was visiting the UK after two whole years of lockdowns and travel bans. Younger daughter came too, from Melbourne, along with her husband, and for five days, I became the mother I used to be before they left home.

This afternoon when they left, once again I was left with the empty house, a lot of mess, and the sound of their laughter still echoing in my ears.

Where have the thirty years of my life have gone? I still remember when we brought the first one home from the hospital. Overnight our life changed. My husband and I left the country of our birth and have been living in Australia for more than five years. All this time we have been saying, we will go back to India. Even after five years, (ten years in my husband’s case) we didn’t feel connected to the country we were calling our home.

It changed within months. 

Suddenly we had so many memories attached to the place. The hospital where our first daughter was born. The two-bedroom apartment we brought her in. Our first owned home, where we moved two months later. The child-care and kindergarten she went to.

The second daughter arrived three years later, and we developed roots in our adopted country. 

I stopped talking about going back; instead, our family migrated to Australia. First, my husband’s parents came, followed by his brother and family. Then came my parents and my brother and his family.

No longer we felt alone in a country where we couldn’t even get Indian groceries in the eighties. Our children gave us the reason to settle down and enjoy life.

For the past thirty years, I have been a busy mother, a devoted daughter-in-law, and a patient wife. My husband and I have built a home that always has an open door for family and friends. 


I didn’t cry; when my daughters left this afternoon. Neither did I try to clean the mess they had left behind. Instead, I had a nap to allow my sixty-year-old body to recuperate from all the excitement it had in the last five days. Then slowly, I went from room to room to inhale the scent my kids left behind.

My home is empty again. Not only my home but most of our friends’ homes too. Houses that were once bustling with young children, their friends, birthday parties, sleep-overs, and video games and music have just two or three people living in them.

The house has gone quiet again. My husband has gone back to his computer and my father-in-law to the TV. I came to the kitchen to prepare dinner but realized that the fridge was full of leftovers that would last us for at least a couple of days. So there is nothing else to do but catch up with emails, Whatsapp messages, LinkedIn posts, and Medium articles.


An hour later, I realized what excellent role technology is playing in the lives of empty-nesters. Was it not for writing on Medium, I would have gone mad during the 24 grueling months of lockdowns and isolations?

And now, when the children are exploring the world and living their own lives, I am leaning more towards my online friends for social connection.

It was nice to know that my online friends on the other end of the world are patiently waiting for me to embrace me back into their circle as soon as I was ready.


The first article I read on Medium was from Niharikaa Kaur Sodhi where she told a story to illustrate that we can have meaningful connections online.

A friend, who I don’t know in real life and lives on the opposite side of the globe, checked in with me every week post my surgery. He didn’t have to. There was nothing he got out of it. He didn’t upsell me into buying anything.

He just did because he wanted to.

At the time of typing this, his son is in the hospital and I’m unable to reach him for three days. I don’t even have his number, because we’ve only communicated via DMs.

I don’t have to worry. I’ll probably never even meet him.

But I’m human, and I do. And that’s the connection you should strive to achieve.

People who I call ‘friends’ didn’t check up on me. Gym buddies who live 5 minutes away didn’t text me, leave alone meet me. But this person did. And for that, I’ll always hold him highly in my heart. — Niharikaa Kaur Sodhi

“We are humans,” she wrote, “and human stories get us together.”

“See, humans connect with each other on the simple things in life.” she wrote. 

It was as if she was talking to me directly. Never before had I shared my family life on the internet, and she was urging me to do exactly that.

I know there are many empty-nesters in the Medium community. They can understand what I am going through. I already feel better, having written what I am going through. 

With the help of technology, I am connected to countless people all across the world. Without them and my writing, I might have drowned in self-pity and loneliness.


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No one reads books, why even bother writing them?

“I just spent the past year researching book publishing, and I can sum up my findings in one sentence: No one reads books.” wrote Elle Griffin in her Substack newsletter.

Like me, she wanted to write fiction. She even wrote a Gothic novel and published it on Substack. She tried to focus on her job and writing on the side – nothing else. Then she was chosen by Substack for a fellowship program. She was one of the ten writers selected for the fellowship, and it would have been silly to let the opportunity pass by her.

So rather than spending a year writing her next Utopian novel, she hunkered down on Substack, and according to her, it paid off.

After only one year of starting her newsletter, Novelist, she attracted 4,000 free subscribers and made $10,000 in revenue.

But then she dropped a bombshell. She wrote the article; No one reads books.No one will read your bookAfter I completed my first novel, I had dreams of a beautiful black book, its ivory pages sewn into the binding, the…ellegriffin.substack.com

Her article caused quite a furor. People wrote so many comments. In the Substack writers’ discussion group, people gave their views about her article.

“I think when every word you write is tied to the possible money you need to earn to keep writing works (whether fiction or non-fiction) it can influence choices positively and negatively.” wrote Erica Drayton, The Storyteller.

Most writers indeed want to get compensated for the amount of time and energy they devote to writing. When that doesn’t happen, frustration is inevitable, especially when other ventures are far more lucrative and rewarding.

But that is not the reason we write books. We write books because there is something in us so compelling and urgent that we have to share with the world, whether it is an idea or a story.

“For over half a century, books were considered the ultimate form of writing, wrote Mark Starlin in the discussion forum, “When they were simply a means of communication. The story or information is the important part. The book is just a (much loved) container. Perhaps we need to shift our mindset for current time and technology.”

Now writers have other mediums — blogs, social media, podcasts, videos. Even ebooks and audiobooks have become competitors to physical books.

“The medium doesn’t matter as much as the story, “wrote Mark Starlin, and he is right. In the end, we all are after stories, and we are ready to consume them in any form that is handy. If we are mobile, then through the digital medium, if we are doing chores, driving, or exercising, then through voice, if we are relaxing, then through a physical book.

It is true that we haven’t read 40% of the books we own.

The percentage might be more for some people, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that those who love books can’t resist buying them, thinking they will read them one day.

Our reading habits might have changed too. I like to binge-read books rather than read them cover to cover. It could be because of being time-poor or due to a low-attention span. But I don’t see myself stop buying books anytime soon.

Instead, I now buy books in the middle of the night, at the spur of the moment.

Most writers don’t write books to make money.

We don’t need to do everything to make money. Writing a book is one of them.

Writers write books for themselves.

Ask any writer who wrote their first book why they wrote it, and none of them would say that to make millions. Or even to make a living. Instead, they wrote it because they wanted to tell the story. Or share the idea.

They wanted to see whether they could write a book. It is as if writing a book is like climbing Everest, and you do it not for any reason other than you want to see whether you can do it or not.

I like Mark Starlin’s (another Substack writer) comments in Substack’s discussion group:

“Do we need to be massively popular and earn a lot of money at everything we do? Is that the only gauge of success? I hope not? If you want to write a novel, write one. If ten people love it, then ten people loved something you wrote! That is a good thing.

Sure we would all over to have millions of readers. But if you told a story in a pub to seven people and they all loved it, wouldn’t you feel good about it?

So my thinking is to be a storyteller. The medium doesn’t matter as much as the story. A novel (or a non-fiction book) isn’t the only option. Be creative! And if you can make money writing non-fiction at the same time (and enjoy it) then you have the best of both worlds.” — Mark Starlin

In David Weinberger’s book Too Big To Know, he talks about how knowledge used to be shaped like a book; now it is shaped like the Web.

There is truth in this. Who uses a set of encyclopedias anymore. For most people, information is online.

We have a better medium now than before, that shouldn’t mean we stop writing books.

But poetry, songs, and drama have all survived multiple changes of medium. So can novels and books. They might eventually diminish like any technology and invention. But the hunger for stories will never diminish.

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If You Want To Succeed As A Writer…Conquer your self-doubt first.

Three years ago, I quit my six-figure job to become a full-time writer.

My youngest daughter had just married, and I had fulfilled all my responsibilities. I could live my life my way.

I created a website (www.neeramahajan.com) and started writing blog posts.
But there were two big problems:
1) Nobody was reading what I wrote.
2) I didn’t know how to write.

It was taking me 7–8 hours to write a 750-words post. I was investing countless hours for no returns. My dream to become a published author was going to remain a dream. I was on the brink of giving up when I decided to join an article writing course.

It was a highly demanding, overpriced, three-month-long course with daily homework. It was my last chance to save my dream.

Three weeks into the course, and I couldn’t believe it — the course wasn’t even hard, and I was not a bad writer. In fact, I emerged as a star student. Suddenly, I was writing the same 750 words article in under 1–2 hours.

I learned the problem was not with my writing but with my thinking.

I had no self-confidence.

I needed external validation.

Lack of self-confidence was keeping me from realizing my dream.

After finishing the course, I made a 100 Day Article Sprint. I wrote 100 articles in 100 days on Medium.

On Day 24 of the Sprint, I was selected to receive a $500 check as one of the top 1000 writers on Medium.

On Day 65, I started writing a book. I wrote and self-published it in one week, writing a daily update of the progress on Medium.

In the past five months, I have written five books. I have already published three of them. The other two are in the publishing queue.

I have overcome the most significant hurdle any aspiring writer could face — lack of self-confidence.

If you want to succeed as a writer (or any other endeavor), conquer your self-doubt first.

Don’t let doubt ruin your passion.

Have faith in yourself and your abilities.

All writers struggle with self-doubt, even the established ones. But they all learn to manage it.

Follow the five rules to overcome your self-doubt.

  1. Retire the inner critic.
  2. Done is better than good.
  3. Don’t compare yourself with other writers.
  4. Concentrate on the verb not the noun of writing.
  5. Show the same compassion to yourself as you would to other writers.

Read my journey from a scared chicken to an author of three books in Dare To Create It is available for 99 cents for a short time. You can get it here.

I Ditched The Competitive Life To Live A Creative Life

Three years ago, I was trapped in a bullshit job.

David Graeber, a London-based anthropologist, came up with the term bullshit job in his book, Bullshit Jobs: A Theory, where he described a phenomenon impacting a number of people all over the globe.

A bullshit job is a form of paid employment that is so completely pointless, unnecessary, or pernicious that even the employee cannot justify its existence even though, as part of the conditions of employment, the employee feels obliged to pretend that this is not the case.

My work was pointless and had stopped satisfying me. But it was not easy to quit. One reason was I was getting paid a handsome salary to show my face, and two, I had no idea what else to do.

All my life, I was conditioned to work.

The Call For Creativity

It is one thing to quit your job but completely another to figure out what you really want to do with it.

So many of us had a career at the center of our lives for decades — probably since we left college. When we reach midlife we are faced with the question, ‘What do I do now?’

I looked at friends around me and was disheartened to find they were spending their time minding their grandchildren or tending to their gardens. I didn’t want to confine myself to do just that.

I firmly believed that our life is not just work, home, and social commitments. It is a whole lot more than accumulating money and things.

I wanted my retirement years to be my best.

I believed there was a lot more in me waiting to be expressed. I knew my best was yet to come.

At this time I came across the work of David Corbett, a thought leader on life transition, who revealed that retirement which once was relegated to winding down, now holds the promise of our most significant and passionate years. A time when we can be ourselves and contribute.

We are not only living longer and healthier lives but also tackling a life stage that did not exist twenty-five years ago. A new arena that could last three or four decades after our initial careers have ended.

In his book, The Portfolio Life he shows a new way of thinking and living in extended middle age.

This new stage of life is made more meaningful when people crate a balance of work, learning, leisure and family time, giving back, and whatever else has been simmering on the back burner of their hearts and soul during their careers. The balance can be tailored to one’s personality and situation. I call this a life portfolio because it holds an intentional combination of passions and pursuits. Those who do best at it step back early on, question whatever they may have learned about “retirement,” envision new possibilities and plan ahead.

The term ‘Portfolio Life’ resonated well with me. I am a multi-passion person and a life as a portfolio of activating offers a compelling alternative to traditional retirement.

When I was in primary school, I loved to draw. My favorite class was drawing, where we used to draw and color. Each year, when school would start, I would buy a new set of colored pencils. I loved them more than anything else. All through primary school, I drew, I colored, and I had fun. Then I went to high school and they took away my colored pencils and gave me algebra books.

Now a tiny voice inside me is saying, “I want to draw again. I want to play with colors. I want to have fun again.”

What if I am not good at it. What if I got ridiculed for my attempts. But the tiny voice inside me was saying, if not now then when? In a few years’ time, your eyesight would fade, your hands would tremble and you wouldn’t be able to draw or paint. The thought terrified me.

I also want to write. Writing is not my strong suit but I chose it as my hobby to get better at it. I had tried my hands at writing life stories to document them for my future generations.

I wanted to blog as well. I started a blog a couple of times but gave up because I couldn’t post regularly.

The concept of ‘portfolio life’ gave me a new way of exploring my long-lost passions. I made a list of what my portfolio would include:

  • Blogging
  • Writing
  • Sketching
  • Cartooning
  • Traveling
  • Photography
  • Rock painting
  • Traveling
  • Teaching
  • Public speaking
  • Organizing retreats

According to Corbett, ‘portfolio life’ is about who you are and so-called ‘retirement years’ are the best time to create a life explicitly for yourself.

All of the above-listed activities make me who I am and without any one of them, I’m not complete.

Thinking of my life as a portfolio of activities helps me embrace change and explore the possibilities that will come with an additional 20 to 30 productive years. I will be able to live my life by design and on my own terms.

Out of nowhere, I have this itch to explore the creative side of me.

It took a lot of courage and mental shift to move from a competitive life to a creative life.

Today I am living the life I envisioned for myself.

When I started dreaming it, I didn’t think it was possible to get to where I am today. I wanted to write books, blog, and teach others how to write. In less than three years, I achieved all that.

I wrote about my journey in my new book Dare To Create. It is part “my story” and part a “motivational” book for those who too want to ditch the competitive life to lead a creative life.

Yesterday, when I was giving it the last read before hitting the publish button, I thought how far I had come in a short period, and it was all due to the books, articles, blog posts I read along the way and the courage they gave me to make the transition.

No success is an individual effort; it is a cumulative effect of all the people who went the path before us and cared to share it with us.

Dare To Create is available for 99 cents for a short time. You can get it here.

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