It seems curious to write a blog post entitled ‘why I blog’ when I am, at the moment, going through a phase of ‘blogger’s block’.
There was a time when the words threw themselves at the page, uncontrollably. I had to express myself while my emotions roiled, while my temper flared, while my anger abounded. The internet was my friend and my saviour. My blog was my therapy. It listened. You listened. As I sat at my macbook confessional it was just us: a blogger and a reader. An anonymous blogger and an anonymous reader. This is our conversation.
Despite my anonymity, the blog is probably the least veiled forum which I could have chosen to express myself. The historic form closest to the blog is probably the diary. I share my diary with you. It is deeply personal and deeply brutal and because of this I find blogging intoxicatingly free.
A blog is about marking life as it happens and remembering life as it was. As I look back on my blog posts since April, I can see how far I have come. My blog is for me, the blogger, more than it is for you, my reader. I am sorry about that.
My blog is my progress report, my achievement log, my aims, my ambitions and my vision for the future. My blog is also a series of meandering, often short and incomplete stabs at observations, reflections and insights. An incomplete argument, laid out on the page, never completed because time moves on, life moves on and I want, and you want, something more, something different.
A blog is often written alone, in front of a computer. I read other’s blogs and I feel like I have met the writer. I have never met them, but I know them. The Web experience delivers a faux intimacy but I like it.
Blogging allows you to publish to the world and to reach readers across the planet, but at the same time readers are fickle, readers are demanding, readers want instant gratification, readers want more wit, more content, more drama, more soap opera curiosity and more honesty. Readers are temporary. Readers are transient. I know, I am a reader too.
A blogger can reach readers across the planet, but as a reader you have to find the blog. The terrain is littered, the wood full of trees, the choice immense and overwhelming. For the reader, my blog is a needle in a haystack, a needle amongst a million other needles in a haystack. The blogging world is crowded, competing, and quality doesn’t naturally rise to the top. It can go unnoticed for years and years. Alone in a crowd. Lost in the crowd.
Never to find that one reader who wants a life-long conversation.