It’s tough to start a blog. Especially when your daughter is reading over your shoulder nixing every opening sentence. Except this one.
Technically, author blogs are supposed to be marketing tools: a searchable way for readers, agents and editors to see your writing capabilities, your interests, your day job, your favorite books, your family and friends, where you live. . .
Oops, somewhere in there, I crossed over into straight up social media. And susceptibility to stalkers.
So, why blog? Most of what I could post here has been mentioned somewhere on the internet. Perspective is irrelevant. Wordplay is irrelevant. My posts will be assimilated. Any distinctiveness I offer will be added to the collective.
That’s what I thought when I first started this post. But like this guy, I understand now it’s all about context. The possibilities of someone in my exact circumstances writing exactly what I have are so infinitesimally small, it’s miraculous. What’s even more wondrous? The tiny, but significant, chance that you’re the one reading this right now.
So I can’t disappoint you. I’ve got to put stuff on this blog to take advantage of those possibilities. I’ve got to dodge memes like. . .Bloggers gonna blog, writers gonna write. Keep calm and blog on, etc.
I’ve got to aim for page 3 of a google search.
No recipes. No How-to’s. No inspirational (or depressing) messages. No cutesy stories about my kids, odes to my wife, my hobbies, etc. All those things belong on social media, right?
Instead, you’ll find samples of my writing, tributes to spectacular language/authors, book recommendations, requests for book recommendations (once enough of you follow me), writing journaling (i.e. elation and angst), writing questions, great book ideas (probably from my creative wife), and anything any of you request I blog about.
And if I slip in something wacky and deep that my son said, please forgive me.
Good enough, girl? OK, good night. Go to bed.