And now, seven months later, I have gone from dubious to joyous, guilt-ridden to content, blogshy to blogshot. I have happily found that, thus far, none of my superstitions about blogging or bloggers have rung true. I have discovered political opinions being voiced aplenty, but backed by conscious thought instead of ignorance. None of the bloggers I have talked to, and none of the few blogs I have read in any detail, have exhibited any kind of stupidity or silliness—quite the opposite, in fact. I have found little of the bad grammar and deplorable spelling which I had so feared. The blogsphere, for the most part, seems to be a veritable latter-day Roman forum, where ideas, concepts, instincts, beliefs, and philosophies are exchanged in a healthy, accessible environment. (It probably isn't; but I'm feeling effusive at the moment.)
In the beginning it was lonely—I had no followers, and (I believed) no audience. I got no feedback on my posts. I couldn't be sure whether what I wrote was reaching anyone, or I was just whistling Dixie. But now I have people who read my own blog regularly (I'm blushing as I write this) and who leave some of the most helpful and interesting comments behind. What began as a solo foray has now truly transformed into the best thing possible—a community experience.
But something else has happened, too—something I never, ever would have believed, even after I began blogging back in March. I have come to honestly enjoy reading other people's blogs.
At the outset, I was (and on some level, probably still am) a selfish blogger:
Nah, I don't care about anybody else's scribblings. I just want people to read my stuff, and be correctly awed by it.
That was my philosophy, sad to say. But little by little, the magic seeped in. I started clicking around, sometimes in Blogs of Note, more often on the people who left me comments. Gradually, I found a few works that struck me as perusal-worthy. I began to read them, slowly and fitfully, then more thoroughly, then more routinely. I just consciously noticed today, for the first time ever, that my eyes always dart down to the Reading List at the bottom of my homepage whenever I log in. I'm actually, intentionally, checking for other people's latest posts. And when they come up, I gleefully click on them and go to read them, satisfied that these authors, whose styles I have come to know and adore, have got something else new and wonderful in store for me.
Take smithyblogs, for example. It's run by an Englishman I happen to know personally from my Korea days. A native of the Manchester area, he's got the lot—a sanguine drawl and a fanatical devotion to Manchester United. He's a really entertaining guy to be around. His bone-dry wit is omnipresent, both in conversation and his blog posts. His incisive observations about work, play, food, travel and people are always dead-on and good for a chuckle. The Whole Blooming World, nourished by the Pollinatrix in the American Southwest, contains beautiful, intelligent insights and poetic verbal imagery. She covers everything from the stately gourd bees that pollinate pumpkins to reflections on the lives of Catholic saints, with never a dull moment in between. Much has already been written about Ramblings of the Bearded One, but I will reiterate that his blog ("he" being a married-with-children gent living in Scotland and working in photography and visual media) is a winning blend of humor, fatherhood, family, love, photography, dreams, ups, downs, life, and...ramblings.
I'm not saying this to suck up to these people (sorry, Smithy). When I like something, I get effusive—even florid. I'm saying this because, heh heh, I, heh heh, have been corrupted, heh heh, by the intoxicating atmosphere of the blogsphere, heh heh, and I want you...TO THINK ABOUT IT. (Picture Peter Lorre rubbing his hands and chuckling evilly as he says this.) Maybe, if you were skeptical before, this will give you the impetus to start up a blog of your own. It's really quite something in here. As e.e. cummings said, "Listen; there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go."
Monday, October 12, 2009
blogshot
My personal motto is "I'll try anything twice."
That's because I rarely enjoy something the first time I do, try, eat, or experience it. I was utterly terrified when, at the age of 15, my dad told me to get into the driver's seat of the car. Now I jump at the chance to go into town, just for an excuse to rip up and down the dirt roads in my new Jeep. I only like one or two songs when I first buy an album; after a week or so of listening, I gradually come to love the rest. I only appreciate new cocktails the second or third time I try them. It's the same with many foods, too (except for asparagus—that I do and always will hate).
Even so I was startled to discover, here on this cool, cloudy October afternoon in the Mojave Desert, that something similar has happened to me with blogging.
There was a time when I wouldn't even have considered keeping a blog, and would've scorned the suggestion. Blogs, from what I'd heard of them (I didn't have the open-mindedness to actually seek any out and read them), were merely wasted Web pages where pretentious know-nothings spouted off about their feelings and political opinions. (Gee...that sounds familiar, actually, he said with a guilty grin.) Any bug-wit high school student could start up a blog and opine about whatever mattered to him or her, which, as I believed, would be uninteresting, self-centered, fatuous, poorly-written tripe.
Boy, was I ever barking up the wrong tree.
Then I started coming around. With arrogance resembling a god complex, I mused thus: "Hmmm, well, if a pack of louts can do it, why can't an intelligent, sophisticated, literate man like myself give it a try and show them all up?"
So I started a video blog to cover my Korean sojourn. That didn't last long. I'm sure there are more streamlined ways to do it than I did, and much better equipment and Web sites and editing programs, too, but vlogging was a pain. I used a $20 USB video camera, Windows Movie Maker, and YouTube. That will likely tell you everything you need to know about just how difficult, time-consuming and vexing the process was. Needless to say, I didn't do it often. When I did, I always had so much to speak about that (because of YouTube's asinine 10-minute video length limit) my vlogs turned into "serials" consisting of five or six videos. Filming, editing and uploading a serial vlog could and did routinely turn into an all-day nightmare. So I quit on the business.
Then, a few months later, I was discussing my literary career goals with my Geordie coworkers Adam and Elaine. Adam suggested something that struck me as odd at the time.
"You should start a blog, man," he said.
This would, he argued, give any prospective editors or employers something to review in regards to my writing skill. It might also be fun.
I'll admit that I was first inclined to laugh. Me, a blogger? I'd sooner blind myself with a hot needle. Blogging, to me, represented everything about the Internet (and society in general) that I detested. The uninformed and downright stupid should not be given free rein to voice their useless thoughts. Blogging's deplorable lack of grammar and spelling, the laziness in style (or complete lack thereof), and the disastrous miscarriage of proper word usage were all anathema to me. I could, of course, avoid such things myself, but by even consenting to blog, I'd be stepping into a world where such things were permitted, even overlooked. I'd sully my literary endeavors in so doing. By becoming a blogger, I was convinced, I'd soil myself.
But Adam's suggestion stayed in my mind. I didn't know it at the time, but my omnipotent urge to write was ready to boil over. I was making slow, piecemeal progress with the novel, and my journalistic pursuits were limited to two articles I'd submitted to free e-zines. My creative juices had nowhere to flow. Moreover, I'd always known that I loved to opine. In the end, that selfish need won out.
So I decided to start a blog.
And now, seven months later, I have gone from dubious to joyous, guilt-ridden to content, blogshy to blogshot. I have happily found that, thus far, none of my superstitions about blogging or bloggers have rung true. I have discovered political opinions being voiced aplenty, but backed by conscious thought instead of ignorance. None of the bloggers I have talked to, and none of the few blogs I have read in any detail, have exhibited any kind of stupidity or silliness—quite the opposite, in fact. I have found little of the bad grammar and deplorable spelling which I had so feared. The blogsphere, for the most part, seems to be a veritable latter-day Roman forum, where ideas, concepts, instincts, beliefs, and philosophies are exchanged in a healthy, accessible environment. (It probably isn't; but I'm feeling effusive at the moment.)
In the beginning it was lonely—I had no followers, and (I believed) no audience. I got no feedback on my posts. I couldn't be sure whether what I wrote was reaching anyone, or I was just whistling Dixie. But now I have people who read my own blog regularly (I'm blushing as I write this) and who leave some of the most helpful and interesting comments behind. What began as a solo foray has now truly transformed into the best thing possible—a community experience.
But something else has happened, too—something I never, ever would have believed, even after I began blogging back in March. I have come to honestly enjoy reading other people's blogs.
At the outset, I was (and on some level, probably still am) a selfish blogger:
Nah, I don't care about anybody else's scribblings. I just want people to read my stuff, and be correctly awed by it.
That was my philosophy, sad to say. But little by little, the magic seeped in. I started clicking around, sometimes in Blogs of Note, more often on the people who left me comments. Gradually, I found a few works that struck me as perusal-worthy. I began to read them, slowly and fitfully, then more thoroughly, then more routinely. I just consciously noticed today, for the first time ever, that my eyes always dart down to the Reading List at the bottom of my homepage whenever I log in. I'm actually, intentionally, checking for other people's latest posts. And when they come up, I gleefully click on them and go to read them, satisfied that these authors, whose styles I have come to know and adore, have got something else new and wonderful in store for me.
Take smithyblogs, for example. It's run by an Englishman I happen to know personally from my Korea days. A native of the Manchester area, he's got the lot—a sanguine drawl and a fanatical devotion to Manchester United. He's a really entertaining guy to be around. His bone-dry wit is omnipresent, both in conversation and his blog posts. His incisive observations about work, play, food, travel and people are always dead-on and good for a chuckle. The Whole Blooming World, nourished by the Pollinatrix in the American Southwest, contains beautiful, intelligent insights and poetic verbal imagery. She covers everything from the stately gourd bees that pollinate pumpkins to reflections on the lives of Catholic saints, with never a dull moment in between. Much has already been written about Ramblings of the Bearded One, but I will reiterate that his blog ("he" being a married-with-children gent living in Scotland and working in photography and visual media) is a winning blend of humor, fatherhood, family, love, photography, dreams, ups, downs, life, and...ramblings.
I'm not saying this to suck up to these people (sorry, Smithy). When I like something, I get effusive—even florid. I'm saying this because, heh heh, I, heh heh, have been corrupted, heh heh, by the intoxicating atmosphere of the blogsphere, heh heh, and I want you...TO THINK ABOUT IT. (Picture Peter Lorre rubbing his hands and chuckling evilly as he says this.) Maybe, if you were skeptical before, this will give you the impetus to start up a blog of your own. It's really quite something in here. As e.e. cummings said, "Listen; there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go."
And now, seven months later, I have gone from dubious to joyous, guilt-ridden to content, blogshy to blogshot. I have happily found that, thus far, none of my superstitions about blogging or bloggers have rung true. I have discovered political opinions being voiced aplenty, but backed by conscious thought instead of ignorance. None of the bloggers I have talked to, and none of the few blogs I have read in any detail, have exhibited any kind of stupidity or silliness—quite the opposite, in fact. I have found little of the bad grammar and deplorable spelling which I had so feared. The blogsphere, for the most part, seems to be a veritable latter-day Roman forum, where ideas, concepts, instincts, beliefs, and philosophies are exchanged in a healthy, accessible environment. (It probably isn't; but I'm feeling effusive at the moment.)
In the beginning it was lonely—I had no followers, and (I believed) no audience. I got no feedback on my posts. I couldn't be sure whether what I wrote was reaching anyone, or I was just whistling Dixie. But now I have people who read my own blog regularly (I'm blushing as I write this) and who leave some of the most helpful and interesting comments behind. What began as a solo foray has now truly transformed into the best thing possible—a community experience.
But something else has happened, too—something I never, ever would have believed, even after I began blogging back in March. I have come to honestly enjoy reading other people's blogs.
At the outset, I was (and on some level, probably still am) a selfish blogger:
Nah, I don't care about anybody else's scribblings. I just want people to read my stuff, and be correctly awed by it.
That was my philosophy, sad to say. But little by little, the magic seeped in. I started clicking around, sometimes in Blogs of Note, more often on the people who left me comments. Gradually, I found a few works that struck me as perusal-worthy. I began to read them, slowly and fitfully, then more thoroughly, then more routinely. I just consciously noticed today, for the first time ever, that my eyes always dart down to the Reading List at the bottom of my homepage whenever I log in. I'm actually, intentionally, checking for other people's latest posts. And when they come up, I gleefully click on them and go to read them, satisfied that these authors, whose styles I have come to know and adore, have got something else new and wonderful in store for me.
Take smithyblogs, for example. It's run by an Englishman I happen to know personally from my Korea days. A native of the Manchester area, he's got the lot—a sanguine drawl and a fanatical devotion to Manchester United. He's a really entertaining guy to be around. His bone-dry wit is omnipresent, both in conversation and his blog posts. His incisive observations about work, play, food, travel and people are always dead-on and good for a chuckle. The Whole Blooming World, nourished by the Pollinatrix in the American Southwest, contains beautiful, intelligent insights and poetic verbal imagery. She covers everything from the stately gourd bees that pollinate pumpkins to reflections on the lives of Catholic saints, with never a dull moment in between. Much has already been written about Ramblings of the Bearded One, but I will reiterate that his blog ("he" being a married-with-children gent living in Scotland and working in photography and visual media) is a winning blend of humor, fatherhood, family, love, photography, dreams, ups, downs, life, and...ramblings.
I'm not saying this to suck up to these people (sorry, Smithy). When I like something, I get effusive—even florid. I'm saying this because, heh heh, I, heh heh, have been corrupted, heh heh, by the intoxicating atmosphere of the blogsphere, heh heh, and I want you...TO THINK ABOUT IT. (Picture Peter Lorre rubbing his hands and chuckling evilly as he says this.) Maybe, if you were skeptical before, this will give you the impetus to start up a blog of your own. It's really quite something in here. As e.e. cummings said, "Listen; there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go."
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9 comments:
This is wonderful.
I'm going to have to go wipe this stupid grin off my face before I can say anything intelligent. So I'll be back later.
And thank you for mentioning me - I feel honored.
Ok. So:
I'm totally with you on the try things twice philosophy. In fact, I wrote a poem once called Everything I Need to Know I Learned in a Restaurant Kitchen, which is about exactly that - trying things until you like them. Acquired tastes are earned, and well worth the effort.
Ok, now I have to make an embarrassing confession: I started blogging because of the movie, Julie & Julia. It was what the Julie character says about making it a "regimen" that really sold me. After I saw the movie, I started thinking about how I always want to write but never do, primarily because I feel daunted and discouraged by the publishing process. I was also reading Bird by Bird at the time, and she says to write for the love and pleasure of writing, not to get published, and I thought - wow, a blog would be a really good way to do that. Just forget about publishing, and write - for fun, and for the discipline of it.
And it's turned out to be so much more than I'd even hoped it would be, just as you say.
I've had the same experience of being pleasantly surprised that I actually do WANT to read other people's blogs. And I can't emphasize enough how much it's these conversations that so so inspire me.
I stayed in school for as long as I possibly could because I love discussions about books and writing and philosophy. Blogging is the first thing that's really filled that need for me (besides teaching - but that's not a true peer conversation, and it's a little like being the hostess of a party - you just don't enjoy it the same way).
I love that you get "effusive - even florid" - and that you put it that way. I'm grinning again.
I'm going to go check out smithyblogs now. And look up Peter Lorre, because I have no idea who in the Sam Hill he is.
Why, thank you. It gives me immense pleasure to know that I made someone smile. 'Tis what I've lived for ever since 3rd grade.
I think, after having read your latest post, that you should start putting a select few (not all; otherwise you could never publish a book of them, which I hope you will consider) of your poems on your blog. Particularly Everything I Need to Know I Learned in a Restaurant Kitchen. Sounds intoxicating.
That's not embarrassing. I'm thinking of moving to Providence, Rhode Island, because that's where Emma Watson (Hermione Granger from the Harry Potter movies) is going to college. Sometimes you see or hear something somewhere you weren't expecting and, as you say, it sells you. I was inspired to seek out Walt Whitman's "Pioneers! O Pioneers!" because of a Levi's commercial. I'd say, that wasn't a bad decision of yours at all. You've made a good start, if you'll take the word of 23-year-old neophyte blogger on it.
Well, hallelujah! I was on the verge of becoming a slave to the publication process. Bravo, Ms. Lamott (and you for informing me). I think I'll just write for fun from now on. I think there's some solid gold in the future for both of us. I gotta read that book.
Ha! Great analogy: teaching = being the hostess of a party. I've been there before. Books and book discussions are my drugs of choice.
Smithyblogs is worth it. He just started covering his second year of teaching in South Korea. I hope he keeps it up and does the whole thing; it's already darn good and it's only going to get better. I'm not going to give you any hints about Peter Lorre, heh heh heh...
Well, well. What can I say? Genuinely touched, Postman, thank you.
After reading this post, I hereby pledge to explore other people's blogs much more. I, as you said, am a 'selfish' blogger who has measured his success through the number of subscribers on my blog - no more! I am slowly realising that there is as much gold too be found in the comments section as there is in the blog itself.
Seriously mate, thanks. It's been a shitty day today and this has perked me up no end.
Yer welcome. Nice job with the blog.
That was something I hadn't expected, really; to find so much worth discussing and investigating in the comments. What a goldmine they have been.
Hope your shitty day gets better, mate.
I could have written this. I thought blogging was for pretentious people with too much time on their hands; no way was I ever going to write a blog. Then Kim got me started...
I've got to tell you something: Kim isn't Scottish! He and I are both foreigners in Scotland, though he's probably got more Scottish blood than I do and he's MARRIED to a Scot, so I think that gives him some honorary status.
Oh really? Whoops! I thought for sure I'd read someplace that he was. Guess that does it for my career as an investigative journalist. I'll get that fixed right away. Thanks for your input. Glad to know I'm not the only one out there who feels the same way.
Whoa - Peter Lorre! I guess I'd kind of heard of him, and probably seen him before - but man, he's made a lot of movies. None of which I've seen, I'm afraid.
The two things I really need to do in life to bring myself up to cultural par are watch Casablanca and read Moby Dick. Can you believe I have a Master's in English and have never read Moby Dick? It's a disgrace, it really is. Please don't tell the academia police on me. Maybe I should get a PhD - NOT!
I am going to start posting poems every now and then. But the Restaurant Kitchen will have to wait, because I have a Halloween poem to post first.
I was thinking about this post some more, and the whole publishing thing, and I realized that what I really want out of "getting published," (besides fame and glory, of course; I gave up on money about three writing books ago) is READERS. I want someone to share my writing with that actually appreciates it.
Blogging is the best of all possible worlds for this, because I get to actually have an ongoing conversation with the people who are reading me. And I get to read them too and be inspired.
The stuff I've been posting has definitely been influenced by these conversations - such a delightful surprise.
I'm sure you'll see reflections of our dialogue in my most recent post.
I'm sure there's a lot fewer people out there who have read Moby Dick than have actually claimed to. That sucker's huge. I started reading it once way back in high school, but couldn't get through it. I'm going to try again someday. But not having seen Casablanca, I'm afraid, is absolutely unforgivable. I might have to call out the pop culture police on this one. One my protagonists in the novel is named after Humphrey Bogart.
Oooh! A Halloween poem! I might be quoting it at my Halloween party, then...
Oh yeah...money. I've been penniless for so long I daresay I'm getting used to it. Hardly enough money for books anymore (gasp!). Yeah, readers are what it's all about. What I'm hoping for is, if not adulation of these books, then at least a bit of resonance. Appreciation, as you stated. I think that's what every writer (deep down in their naked soul) wants. Writing a novel is a way of stripping naked to make a point, too, it seems.
Thanks for your feedback as always...
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