Random Blog Reading
I started this blog with the aim of providing my creative side an alternative to that of writing fiction. I wanted to write about the world around me and express my opinions on any subject that held my interest. Writers block is an alien world to me as I have never struggled for ideas or how to arrange them in a coherent fashion, yet the more I learn about blogging the more I pause for thought on how I conduct myself.
With fiction I let my brain tell my hands what to do and the words flow. I can always edit after so I don’t worry too much about what I write. My Dad always told me: “Get it down first, write it all, everything and anything you want, and worry about editing later.” You can correct blog posts but it makes sense to get things as well laid out as possible before clicking the Publish button.
So after publishing a few “test the water” posts on Noobcake I looked to see what other people in blogland had to say. Previously I was wrapped up in my own bubble, only really concerned with my own voice regardless of whether anyone heard it or not. Recently I joined the PostADay2011 Challenge and my interest in other blogs began to soar. Then I came across an interesting blog titled Things In Life I Find Annoying – Or Not, where the author, Classy Rose, encourages bloggers taking part in the WordPress Challenge to read 2 new blogs every day from Feb 14 – 20 2011. More specifically blogs they have never visited.
Interesting idea I thought, I’ll give that a go and see where it leads me. But before I go into that I thought I’d help the cause. I have created 2 badges for the RandomBlog2011 Challenge that people can use on their blogs similar to the PostADay2011 Challenge. Instructions on how to use these badges on your blog can be found on PostADay2011 Challenge.
Today I came across 2 blogs that captivated me in very different ways.
Three Cats on a Sofa
What compelled me to read the post titled Why I left publishing, aside from the image of the stack of pencils crying out to be used, was the second paragraph that starts:
But after years in publishing, I suddenly realized I no longer read for pleasure anymore.
I had to find out why, surely anyone who enjoys reading won’t just stop due to their working life? Apparently people can and do for many reasons. I left a reply underneath the post because one particular line made me feel terrible.
But after one too many conversations snickering at someone’s beloved manuscript because we perceive it to be somehow inferior or not giving an already published book a chance because it’s somehow beneath those of us who know better, my brain started to freeze whenever I tried to write. No matter how I tried to just let go, I kept on agonizing over my words, my sentences, the meaning, the story. I had started to see my writing through the lens of someone else, and I was so afraid of the judgment that I stopped writing.
I can’t describe exactly why I felt so bad after reading that, maybe it’s that fear of one day not being able to enjoy that one thing we can be passionate about. Perhaps it shows that even those with huge reservoirs of passion can find they dry up or freeze over. I’ve been writing since before I was 10 and the thought of not being able to do it, for whatever reason, is frightening.
I’ve always written for my own amusement despite family and friends insisting I submit my stuff to publishers. The thought of someone picking up my novel in a bookshop is exciting. Writing for money is of no interest to me. The one thing about being published that interests me is if my novel, my baby, prompted a response from a reader, be that good or bad. Just enough for them to state their opinion about it. That would give me a smile for a life time.
Mayhap that day will come and I will beam from one ear to the other at the sight of my novel on a high street book shelf! It may be sad to admit that I already have a plan should that ever happen. If I spot someone slide my book from the shelf I’ll step up next to them and say: “I wrote that.” Then walk away! Is that a pride thing? I reckon that one indulgence is acceptable.
Why I Never Lived, and why I always lied
Clicking through tags on blogs is a great way to find new and interesting topics. I found this post via Three Cats on a Sofa and was captivated by the beautiful style of writing. I’m not a huge fan of poetry, Desiderata being my favourite, if you can call it a poem. However, there is one paragraph toward the end was so elegantly written that I reread it several times:
So, what I do is write. I write to drown myself in the noise of the keyboard or get lost in the trail of ink on paper. I write often to remind myself of what I am. I write often only to be admired. Writing brings me to itself, for when I don’t, I feel incomplete. I write bullshit. I write the truth. I write anything that comes to my mind. I write to decorate anything that comes to my mind. Most of all, I write because when I write, I am a different person, and I love to read what that person has written, for he is so much like me, but ever so slightly.
For all my years of writing and honing my skills to a point where I occasionally consider some bits and pieces are “not bad”, I have never been able to sum up why I write and what it means to me better than that.
Because of the The Daily Post Challenge and the RandomBlog2011 Challenge I came across these two blogs that have not only refueled my passion for writing but inspired me to step outside my bubble and read what others are passionate about. And for that I am grateful.