This is my I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-blogging face.
I’ve been making it for ages.
It might be because I’ve read too many of those articles on how blogs have become these focused, monitized and must-have marketing tools. All the joy has been squashed out of this thing I once loved so I haven’t wanted to do it or talk about except on the rare occasion that I read a brilliant book or get gut-punched by a movie and want to shout it from the rooftops.
That’s how it started.
We were living up at UC Santa Cruz and I was avoiding my thesis project by reading the online diaries of strangers. And it occurred to me that I could more productively procrastinate if I started a public personal journal of my own. It went a little something like this. And this. And this. It was marvelously messy.
In the heyday of unfocused, unmonitized, babbling blogging I met a ton of people and made a bunch of friends. I even kept a fat fistfull of them (yes you). But somewhere along the way we got busy, got lazy, ran out of words or time.
I’ve kept the blog all these years for all the wrong reasons.
I can’t remember the last time I took great joy in shouting from the rooftops. And I was thinking, how nice it might be to do that again – ignoring all those authorities with their platform-building manuals, SEO strategies and affiliate programs – and just writing.
For the sheer pleasure of doing so.
Who’s with me?