I've been sucked into the blogging world. This was actually an accident. When I made the commitment to myself to try and write more, to try and write every day on a blog, I was pretty sure I knew what I was doing.
But this virtual world has so much more than I ever imagined. More even than I understand. Twitter, counters, memes, and other terms that I have only just begun to grasp. And so I stay close to the poolside, not venturing too far from the edge while I swim, lest I get a cramp and sink, or some blogger bully pulls me under kicking and fighting for air.
One thing I have done more of besides write, is read other blogs. There are a billion stories in the naked Internet. No time to read them all. So I choose a few written by friends both past and present, family members, and a couple blogs by complete strangers just for fun. I can step into their world and read all about the drama, comedy, heartache, success, like I would a good book.
The drawback to this reading is that I am made very much aware that there are a whole boatload of people out there who are better writers than me. Now, in the world inside my head, I am a writing guru. Sage and loquacious, able to pull a metaphor out of thin air for every occasion. I like to imagine, as I've said before, that this blog is being read by millions who see my words of wisdom, have their 'aha' moments where they too realize what a wordsmithing god I am, and feel so inferior that they cannot even bring themselves to comment on such an amazing writers work.
In real life, this is being read by my family and a few friends (hi gang) who are more than willing to leave comments. They are also already forced to love me because I'm family or friend. But my mind still writes as if my audience is larger. This has the pleasant effect of deluding me into believing that I am a Writer.
Now, I can hear my mother's voice clearly. "But you are a writer. And very TALENTED!"
Thanks Mom. :)
But sometimes, when I read other writing and see the talent that is out there, I am fully aware that I will always just be dabbling in writing, and photography, and my other hobbies, and probably make little - if any- money doing any of them.
One trouble almost every writer I read has is believing that their offerings are worthy of being read, so I know I am not alone or original with these thoughts. In fact, my friend Lisa (The Bird Sings over there in the 'Others' category) has written about it much more eloquently. As has an old friend from high school named Patresa, who is another really, really good writer. Both of their blogs deserve a good lingering visit because they can both put words together well, and have some darn good insight to boot.
They both also edit. Me... not so much. I'll spellcheck this before I post it, so I don't come across as a total ignoramus. But mostly blogging for me is just releasing the valve in my head and letting thoughts spew forth into the computer. Does this make me a writer? Shouldn't a writer have drafts and edits, and workshop their writings and live in some beautiful, scenic place for inspiration? I don't do any of those. Though there are some scenic spots in my town, I would not visit as a tourist if I did not live there.
I'd like to be a guest blogger some day, as that might indicate a level of success I have not currently achieved. Or be a Free Writer like Lisa and Patresa. Although, like Twitter, I'm not exactly sure what this is, and so it scares me a little.
My mind boggles. Probably because it is way early in the morning and I am thinking too much in a feeble attempt at staying awake. So, to my 'readers' (aka family and friends) thanks for your readership. I'll work on expanding the numbers of readers to satisfy my sense of accomplishment. But right now the quality of my readership is top notch.
And I'll be a happy writer, if not a famous Writer.