Why do I blog?
I’m not the first to ask this, and I suspect I won’t be the last. Many bloggers reach a point where they question their motivation and direction. For me, the reason I started blogging remains: to have an independent outlet for creativity, free from client briefs and external expectations. It’s a space to explore ideas without being judged by outcomes.
Over time, though, I’ve discovered I’ve created limits for myself.
The Blogging Treadmill
At some stage the joy of writing can turn into a treadmill — where creativity is replaced by routines and deadlines. Weekly posts, content planning and even the modest social promotion I do can begin to feel like obligations rather than pleasures. When a blog focuses on a narrow topic, producing regular content can feel like an obligation hard to escape, particularly when readers expect a steady stream of posts.
Analytics growth and steady traffic can make changing direction feel risky. But pageviews and stats don’t define happiness. They don’t replace the intrinsic satisfaction of writing for its own sake.
I’ve also resisted turning this hobby into a full-time income because monetisation can make that treadmill ruthless. When your livelihood depends on constant output, the freedom that drew you to blogging can evaporate. For me, blogging should remain free and open, but I’ve sometimes tied myself to routines that steal that freedom.
PR Unfriendly
After years of thought, I’ll admit I’m PR unfriendly. Early in the blogging scene, many declared themselves “PR friendly” and to me that always felt like a compromise of voice. Blogging should be an independent, personal perspective, not a marketplace for paid endorsements.
My background includes running a company, so my stance is not anti-business — it’s about preserving authenticity. When blogs accept PR-driven content that clashes with their voice, the writing suffers. My handful of PR projects never felt natural; they left me uncomfortable and constrained.
I’ve Grown
Over the years I’ve changed creatively, emotionally and intellectually. Now in my fourth year of blogging, it’s natural that my interests have evolved. That prompts a more focused question: why do I write about the topics I choose?
Food sits at the heart of what I do. When I began, I thought I needed to invent recipes because using others’ recipes felt wrong. I also wanted to develop my opinions about food and to improve my photography. Recipe development never truly excited me, but food photography did — and I’ve grown proud of that work.
My understanding of food systems expanded when I began a Food Policy master’s at City, University of London. I started the blog with limited knowledge of how food moves from field to plate; now I’m hungry to share clearer, better-informed perspectives. Writers like Michael Pollan have shown how to make complex food issues accessible, and that clarity is what I aim for.
Turn The Table
I keep a list of quotes that resonate, and one that stuck comes from a fictional president: “If you don’t like the way the table is set, turn it over.” I need to turn the table over.
Turning the table means following the things I truly love and letting go of the routines that drain me. Growth doesn’t happen by repeating the same safe choices. When I started blogging I was testing the waters; now I know how to swim and it’s time to seek deeper water.
Changing direction may risk alienating some readers, but it also opens the possibility of finding a larger, more engaged audience by being fully aligned with what I love. When your work matches your deepest interests, it becomes clearer, stronger and more compelling.
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.”Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
What comes next? Watch this space.