I love blogging. I blog in my head all the time, it's become how I approach the world, mentally. I love reducing experience to columns, reporting, then mixing in prior experience with anecdotes and a philosophical view point that encompasses it all.
Or talking about products, people, music I've found. Or venting spleen. Or perhaps writing things and leaving them on draft forever, because much as I need to write them, I know people don't want to read them.
I read the other day that this sort of blogging about blogging is frowned upon in the blogging community (for there is such a thing!) as self indulgent. Well, fair enough - but I haven't been doing it that long, and I need to make these observations.
Anyway, I'm just updating my links, I also write for forninepounds, a group blog, and more recently I hijacked the blog from my husband's band's myspace, which is getting lots of hits and will hopefully start getting feedback. It's going to be a strange balance, writing about other people while keeping it personal enough to make it interesting. At least that's what I see happening. It's pretty band focused, but you might like the music. We do.
I fancy myself as a good writer, or I used to. But I just don't seem to be able to pull it all together. And I do seem to have forsaken style in favour of the overly self-focused blurt. Messaging a friend Steve from college who is good at everything, or comparing my Barbie post with metrodad's princess post, well, it just humbles me.
Still, I got a piece of erotica published (which I will not be sharing with you) and I love it, love it. Personally, I think it's one of the best things in the anthology, and the lovely editor sent me feedback from someone else who agreed. Don't you love people who pass on compliments? So I will keep plodding/blogging on regardless.
