According to some sources, blogging is dead. So is it any surprise that it is the writers who are holding on to it with their life. Blogging is perfect for writers. It is practice. We learn to get the word on the page. Then we get to see it in print. So easy, just a click on “Publish.” God, were that it were that easy otherwise. And we get feedback. Oh, the feedback. No sending one poem to a lit mag and waiting six months or longer for a form rejection. Nope, I’ve got my sister correcting my usage, some broad in Chicago telling me to buy expensive shoes, an Irish/Canadian/English reader to nitpick my spelling choices, a smut writer who calls me chickadee (I know, she calls everyone chickadee, but let me persist in my delusions of grandeur), and some Californian who thinks she can beat me in Words with Friends. What I’m saying is that the instant report (and rapport) feeds my lonely writer soul.
I think that’s it, Indy. I don’t blog because I think I’m adding some rocket scientist value to the progress of the written word. I do it because if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have met all of you and if I hadn’t met all of you, I’d still be working on a first draft.
And really, truly, you cannot count on friends who don’t write to understand any of this madness. Even when they’re being supportive how are they supposed to know that just because you finished doesn’t mean it’s going to end up on the shelves. Ever. And it’s that very reason that I cherish all of you because you get the guts and sweat that went into it and know without saying how bad it hurts to know you may just not have what it takes.
More importantly, you understand the beauty of those shoes and Brandi Carlisle. I mean really, at some point the writing becomes has to become secondary to the fun stuff because if it was constantly primary, we’d just jump.
I hadn’t noticed the bright red stripe before I googled it to post it. Swoon.
I thought facebook was dead. It’s so hard to keep track.
So true.
Well said, Indy, well said. I started blogging because I needed an outlet, a place to get thoughts out of my head that didn’t have anywhere else to go. This quickly evolved into, as you say, writing practice, a warm-up session where I could write about anything, where I didn’t have to focus on my Me-moir, where there wasn’t any expectation. I never thought my blog (and all of your blogs) would be where I connect almost daily with so many smart, sassy, hardworking writers.
And then there’s the added bonus of meeting so many of you in person. Who’d have thought ….
Went to an interview on Friday for a writing gig. (unpaid)
Interviewer: “And how does your blog do?”
Well, it does me just fine, because as Teri and Lyra said above, it’s my writing support group.
I spit on the breakfast of anyone who says blogging is dead. They know not of* what they speak.
*would you add or delete this preposition?
Hm. Excellent question. They know not what they speak sounds like they have no idea what words are coming out of their mouths, but they know not of what they speak sounds more as if they were uneducated on the particular topic. In addition, the extra syllable and slightly archaic construction adds a highly deserved tone of pretentiousness.
I vote to keep it in. Thank you.
Blogging’s not dead. Blogging is for people who like space, versatility, archives, and time.
And, as everyone has already said, supportive friends.
I came back to read through the comments and realize that I’m really just irritated.
Blogging is dead. Hmmm… Maybe these people say blogging is dead because they’ve discovered it’s not helping them sell their books. Just like Twitter and Tumblr and every other medium will be deemed “dead” (if they aren’t already) as a way to flog people with more information (Like me! Buy my book!) than they care to receive.
So maybe it’s about having something to say rather than “Hi, guys, here is the fifteen-hundredth way you can buy my book.”
Of course my blog is “Hi, guys, here is the fifteen-hundredth reason that writing or editing a book is hard.”
That smut writer never calls me chickadee!
Google Plus was never alive to begin with. I LOVE the community that blogging creates. Let all of the neophytes abandon their blogs and we long-timers can build our rapport in peace!
Exactly.
“…were that it were?” What do you think Orwell would have made of that?
Hahahaha! You’re the only one brave enough to call a copyeditor out on that. I wrote it out of laziness and am fully prepared to find out that it is wrong. What would your mother have said? Or your father? He tried to teach me the subjunctive by saying “Were I a bicycle, I would have two wheels.” I still think that’s pretty cute.
Funny thing, Indy, I don’t remember my parents deliberately teaching me much about language (other than correct my use of “you and me” or “you and I”). Language just sort of happened. I do remember (albeit before your time, because you are the Very Most Youngest Sister) that we brought poems to the table to read out loud at dinner time. I am pretty sure there would have been a subjunctive (a statement contrary to-fact) or two in some of that traditional verse…
I mean, “correcting”