Blogging. Why?

Why?

Why?

I’m posting a link here to a blog I read today and it expresses exactly how I feel.  It’s as if she peeked into my head and pulled out all the nagging, second-guessing, head scratching and self-recrimination in that half-empty cavern and threw them on a public post using clever words and perfect phrasing about why I continue to write. In particular, why I blog. 

I replied to the blog but got carried away and it became its own blog post and it felt a little rude to post a 400 word essay in a reply box.  So, I’m posting my reply here.  It’ll make more sense if  you read her article first:

New Year’s Eve came and went with a snore.  A literal snore, as I tucked in at 9pm. New Year’s Eve used to be this time of unfettered optimism and limitless booze, followed closely by regret and a massive hangover.

2016: Year of the Ambivalent Blogger

And then I said,

Excellent piece and I wish I’d written it myself. It wouldn’t be nearly as shamenun-10728086806good though because I’ve taken to using quick and easy cheap shots to get some laughs and thereby followers and likes. Still satisfying but I feel a bit whorish at times. I was raised Catholic so that feeling is always lurking around anyway.

I’ve also questioned the point of blogging. It is a distraction. After I’ve read blog after blog or Facebook news-feeds ad naseam, I hear that familiar, nagging voice asking me, “Welp, did you find what you were looking for? And the answer is no. Because I’m just not sure what it is I’m looking for anymore. Maybe it’s the one brilliant motivational phrase that will force open my word processor and then, my God the words will just fly onto the screen and I’ll be up all night long, unable to stop the wave of words, words, words, because now I know…something… but…no. No. Nothing there. Nothing here.

Still, the actual physical rush of strangers reading my words, liking my articles, laughing (they say) at my funny, clever self — it’s like a recreational drug. Or at least how I remember recreational drugs. Crazy fun. Wild abandon. A fast ride for a quick minute. And then the inevitable coming down and realizing I did it again. I’m just a cheap tease.

1003193_10201978896740869_876422388_nSo I open my word processor and stare at yesterday’s efforts. I like the words but they don’t give me any feedback. They offer nothing but truth. Funny, but just truth. I already know all that stuff. It came right out of my head. No cute little thumbs ups or WordPress prompts telling me I’ve gotten a new follower.  Maybe I should post an excerpt of my more serious work on my blog…yeah…and get some feedback…maybe some likes and followers. Too much of a spoiler? Maybe my future publisher will be pissed and tell me I cheapened the whole thing by publishing excerpts before the book comes out. Too late, she’ll say. You’ve wasted your only chance here. No book for you.

Anyway.  I liked the article.  Now I’m going to watch some mindless 2013content_academyawards_460x300program on Netflix.  Maybe I’ll write a screenplay.

 

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3 thoughts on “Blogging. Why?

  1. […] it is I’m writing on my blog. And that’s the problem. What is it I’m writing? I’m blogging about blogging these days. Something seems wrong with that. Another distraction. This is not the kind of writing I […]

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  2. […] As I mentioned in another blog post, people actually reading my words and then commenting and interacting is like a drug.  An illegal […]

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  3. dray0308 says:

    Reblogged this on Dream Big, Dream Often and commented:
    If you haven’t yet, comb through the posts on Bzirkworld. I seem to get lost going from post to post and always find something interesting to read!

    Like

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