Sunday, February 21, 2010

Blahg, Blahg, Blahg

I’ve been doing some thinking on this whole blogging thing and have decided that it’s going to be about me. You know why? Because there are too many rules and they don’t all make sense.

Being informed can be liberating in a freezing sort of way. Do this, not that. Listen to him, not her. That’s a bad website, this one is better. Read this book, not that one. There is so much (opinion) information out there I have to wonder about its birth.

The consensus for writer blogs seems to be to not expect many to follow you until you are a published writer, unless your subject matter has cult appeal or your voice is so soothing or dramatic people flock to your site like birds to a high wire.

But shouldn’t it simply be they follow because they’re interested? Isn’t that why they read in the first place?

I’ve read blogs that read safe and look pretty, that reveal that person’s day or life, that ramble from one thought to another, that are extremely political, or that are anti-all, making me feel like they are secretly trapping my cookies to recruit me for some future undoing. I’ve also read blogs that are intelligent, fun, informative, interesting, and bizarre. If these are written by people I know, I’ll support them even if it’s not my mug of java – why not? At least they have the (nuts) courage to write it down.

There must be thousands of blogs in hundreds of languages all over the planet. Blogs I frequent are those written by my writer friends and recommendations from my writer’s groups and from there I explore. I may also start with someone known then go through their lists to find someone a bit more obscure, then go through their lists and eventually I get to someone like me – a new blogger who will have, after this one, four posts to her credit. So far I don’t fit into the rules. I’m not published, well-known, and maybe not even interesting.

I tend to ramble which is apparently another no-no – keep it short because people won’t stay to read long things. Well, those people read books and the Sunday paper and those are long things. I’m not going to pass up a book because it’s long; I typically select a book based on its size. (Size matters.) Just about anything over 800 pages is going home with me. Not only do I want to get my $18 worth, I want to read something that will consume me and that’s also worth my precious time.

So, who makes these rules? Are they made by people who have made it or those who haven’t? Is it hearsay? Is there a rule stating there has to be rules about everything? Like the one involving grammar and editors that won’t read sloppy work. Well, I’m not grammatically vested but I’ve read some books that either haven’t been edited or the rules have changed since I was in eighth grade. Maybe the rules of grammar haven’t always been so rigid which is why there are complaints on the lack of it in older novels. Maybe they were an invention of those who had to find something bad to say about something wonderful. Maybe this explains all the blog rules.

I can't please everyone with my writing so I may as well please myself. This is my voice which I will lose if I’m too busy wondering how I will sound to the world. I’d rather be a spotted white tiger than a chameleon. Follow my own beat, right?
For now, I’m going to borrow from the ‘60’s and tell it like it is. Follow me or don’t, it’s your choice. Peace, man.

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