I’m a writer, who happens to have a blog. And who also happens to post what I write on Facebook too. Every day. It’s how I roll. In the last year and a half since I’ve been writing full-time I’ve written over seven-hundred stories and poems and essays- so many that I don’t even remember lots of them! It’s all quite a personal accomplishment in and of itself and a hot mess which I’m very happy about and wouldn’t be able to change if I wanted to.
I wouldn’t want to.
My blog and Facebook daily routine is how I personally publish and “finish” each piece. At least the first draft. That of course doesn’t include the couple of dozen or so e-zine and journal publications and the fellowship short-list and my book that I’ve been lucky enough to have earned. With all of this, my writing isn’t any type of personal statement really or any longing for anything or provocation or how I’m feeling at the moment or a need to be understood. It’s simply me trying to expand what I do and get better at my craft and a point in my evolution as a “professional”, you know.
Like a carpenter tries to build better and bigger things as he practices and gets better and grows.
That analogy’s not so great but I’m sticking with it for now. All that being said, although I have an active blog, I’m not a blogger per se. I’m not looking for hits or interactions or feedback of the sort on where my head is or some type of psychoanalysis which many folks seem to want to do, the whole trying to figure out where I’m at thing. I do it all simply for the writing and have no need to be personally understood. If anything my writing is simply a snapshot in time and a fleeting moment. I could write something very sad, but that doesn’t mean I need comfort nor am sad when I write it. It means I’m tapping into that sad part of me which of course is just part of the range of human emotion. And purely tactical. I could be as happy as a clam at the time, really. On the other hand I could be horribly depressed, even crying, and come up with some silly-assed, rhyming and sappy, happy story or poem. That doesn’t mean I’m silly-assed and sappy or happy though when I write it.
Am I making any sense? I think I’m trying to say something, but I’ll leave that to you. You are the reader after all. But I do deliberately try to write to every type of emotion be it happiness, sadness, fear, depression, guilt, frustration, shame, pride, etc. (as the list does go on…)
All THAT being said, if you yourself have a blog, do you consider yourself a writer or a blogger? Why is it you do what you do? I put up the question as I do think there’s some value in the exercise of self-assessment, right? Sometimes I think I do it all simply to pass the time. Well, I have lots of time at this point in my life and need to fill it see? And writing and thinking about writing and editing and manuscripts and the “business” of writing pretty much takes up all of my waking hours. And my sleeping ones too. It sure the hell is better than most activities and I do take it all pretty seriously.
But I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone.
Except maybe myself. I do feel some sense of obligation though to clarify my intentions in general to those who read me. My blog is a creative expression of mine, as is the shed that the carpenter may build, although I don’t know how serious he may be about it, or whether he considers it a creative endeavor, or whether he even cares. I figure I have many years left to grow as a writer, and my blog isn’t at all my be-all-end-all. It’s where I’m at right now. It makes me happy and I’m proud of it.
For the moment.
Until I move on. The carpenter may grow in his craft and stop building sheds and then build ships or something more ambitious, I don’t know. Maybe someday I won’t blog at all and be a famous screenwriter where film is my medium. Or have a series of books that can be bought in the supermarket and Oprah will have them in her book club. Who knows? Or cares? For now my blog is where I’m at and it’s quite gratifying and it’s part of my “process and procedure”, that’s about it.
It’s not anything more.
Are you a writer or a blogger? There’s a blog that I read regularly and the person casually once said that she is NOT a writer. I was like huh? I mean I was surprised as I read her blog every day and I like what I read and would never consider that she’s not a writer. Ever. That’s just weird to me. If she’s reading this she definitely knows who she is too and yes I’m giving you a big shout out! I think you’re an amazing talent. But apparently you consider yourself a blogger which is fine. And there’s a difference.
I mean you certainly are writing. But I guess it’s a matter of how one self-identifies and where they think they’re going with their writing.
And their blogging.
Of course there’s nothing at all wrong with being a blogger, it’s just not for me. And that’s pretty obvious as my blog could only be called modest and pedestrian if anything. And now that I really think about it, the same could be said for my writing.