I'm tempted to just quit this blogging business altogether. I mean, what's the damn point of having a blog that you don't write new posts for and which is hardly read? Okay, I do know that I have a small but loyal following so perhaps I'm being a bit ungrateful and bitter. But, it's really not about a lack of gratitude or bitterness, it's more a question of whether I feel like I can spend my precious 'writing time'--the minutes and hours that I actually spend in the act of writing stories, poems or drafts thereof--writing for a self-important blog, or whether I should just spend that time working on more substantial items.
It's a tough dilemma for me, because once the writing bug bites me--and she seems to be a seasonal insect--I do feel the need to write often, in various media, and for various audiences. My writings in the blogosphere provoke a certain response from certain people--people whom I otherwise might never communicate with or who might never read another word of my writing. So I do find a certain satisfaction in maintaining this--albeit fragile, thread-like--connection to this 'readership', if one could even call it that. It really is more of a loose community, a network of people who bandy about ideas, opinions and random announcements the way circus jugglers throw balls around, except we throw them to each other too, and then the balls get bigger, and sometimes they smash like glass on the ground...and, well, enough for that analogy.
Okay, I'll leave it at that, for now. No grand pronouncements or announcements that I will be discontinuing my blog, or that I will strive to write once per week or more, or that I will post nude pictures of my friends here for the viewing pleasure of my anonymous visitors. Just another little blog-post-blip in the vast swirling universe of the blogosphere. I've vented and gotten this bit of frustration off my chest.
Just my little two cent contribution. Thanks for listening.
Originality #12: Writing is Time Travel
16 hours ago