Now I've Gone and Done It

I've started something.

It was completely unintentional initially. Just the usual sitting down to write a blog entry. But, as I began to write, it became abundantly clear almost immediately this entry was going to have to be in parts. So then I started writing on two parts and those parts were long and long and long and still not finished.  

And then it dawned on me what I had.

This was no series of blog entries.

No. THIS was a book.

Another book.

I'm writing two books at the same time.

Who is this person and what has she done with Jane?

The Intimacy and the Cost of Blogging: Part Deux

I wonder how many of you began following me when I wrote the original The Intimacy and the Cost of Blogging post?  In light of Thursday's events, I decided to re-use the title. It's fitting, you'll know if you read my original post. 

Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing, announced Thursday he would be taking a break from blogging. How long is anyone's guess...at least a week...maybe more.

It's hard not to know who Dan is at this point. If you use any kind of social media, you likely saw at least one shared link to the blog post he wrote back in November, I'm Christian, Unless You're Gay. The post went viral and continues to be shared 6 months later. In response to that post, he received thousands of comments and e-mails from people sharing their own personal stories of how that article impacted lives, changed minds, fostered the healing of relationships.

He also received hate mail and sad mail and threats.

The negativity didn't seem to squash him though. He kept on writing daily, sharing his life, his philosophies, his trials and tribulations, and his successes with his readers. He kept his chin up and did a bang up job at continuing to spread his message about love, caring, and optimism. He even posted some of the more compelling and wonderful responses he'd received from I'm Christian, Unless You're Gay.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, he shared A Teen's Brave Response to "I'm Christian, Unless You're Gay" and this time the post went, in his words, "mega-viral". He had over 4 million hits in less than a day. All the traffic crashed his host server. He was forced to disable comments on the post.

Because of this second round of immense attention and scrutiny, Dan had an epiphany. He realized all of this attention was taking its toll on him and on his relationships. He had a decision to make. He decided to disappear. 


Regarding his sabbatical, he says, 


I have to get my brain balanced again. This blog has taken me down a road that is so deep and mental and heavy sometimes.

You see, if you read Dan's blog, you'll know he is all heart. He writes with brave sincerity and occasionally from a place that is vulnerable and lonely. He has over 100,000 subscribers and yet, often, he writes as though he is talking to a trusted loved one knowing full well there are people who will contact him with vitriolic nonsense, who will stalk him, who will call him "fake".

Most of the time, he appears to just shrug it off. Like Dooce and her campaign to monetize the hate, he knows there are people who won't like him, won't like what he has to say, will be loudly angry and mean. And yet, like Dooce, he still puts himself out there day after day.

Why? Why would he continue to write as he does knowing he'll be targeted by hate mongers and trolls? Is it because he's learned that much more often people respond and connect to him in a positive, beautiful way if he allows himself to be vulnerable regardless of the negative feedback? I think so.

But I gotta tell you, speaking from my own very limited experience, it's terrifying when an unusually large volume of traffic comes flooding toward me to devour my words, to potentially criticize and hate on me personally and not just what I've said and how I've said it.

To be clear, I've never had a post receive millions of views. I've never crashed a server or had to disable comments. But, beginning with the original The Intimacy and the Cost of Blogging post, I've had a handful of posts that have received thousands of views in a single afternoon. And every time, I've choked back a gasp, my nerves coiled up into a tight little ball in the pit of my stomach and I've waited in fear and outrageous anxiety for the onslaught of virtual fisticuffs to rain down on my head.

It - the nasty personal attacks - hasn't happened thus far. One day though, it will. That is a certainty. Unless I stop blogging all together. Not likely.

I've asked myself so many times - just as I questioned Dan Pearce - why? Why am I willing to risk criticism, rejection, hurt by continuing to put myself and parts of my most vulnerable self out here?

The answer came to me recently in the form of a TED talk on the power of vulnerability.

The video is almost 20 minutes long but it is sincerely worth every minute (as most TED talks are).

I allow myself to be vulnerable here - well, OK, fine, everywhere - because in order to connect, to feel deeply, I must be vulnerable. That is human nature. It is, at times, uncomfortable and frightening. Mostly though, it's gratifying and richly rewarded with friendships and dialogue I wouldn't experience without it.

I've written a number of times about why I write (because I have to) and I've even gone so far as to presume that I write only for myself.

But that's not true. I write, ultimately, to connect with other people. I write what I do to make people laugh, to cry, to cringe, to feel as I do. I write to feel less alone, to give others an opportunity to feel less alone, all the while knowing we are, all of us, alone.

And that's what Dan Pearce does. He writes to connect. Yes, he writes to support himself too but he wouldn't be able to without allowing himself to be sincere and, at times, vulnerable with his readers. Readers know when you consistently aren't sincere. Am I right?

But what Dan has not yet discovered is the balance or the boundaries. He has not yet learned what price he's willing to pay in intimate currency for a connection and a following. He has not yet learned how much to distance himself from the extreme highs and the extreme lows other people will swing toward in order to connect with him...through love and through hatred.

He's off to discover the price he's willing to pay right now.

There is a price to pay.

What is MY price?








PS A most sincere apology to My Alien Body who probably ought to have expected this as a guest post on her own blog. I'll come up with something else for you, Melissa. It just felt right to put this here.

Winning!

If you may recall, a couple of weeks ago, I was gifted a WONDERFUL book by the lovely Melanie from Is This the Middle?. And, because of her gift, I was inspired to not only read and pass on that copy of Creative Is A Verb but also to purchase 3 additional copies to send out into the world in the spirit of Community and spreading the creative joy Melanie bestowed on me to others I admire.

So I created a contest of sorts and asked people interested in receiving a copy of the book to read and pass on to even more lovely, creative people to comment.

10 of you did.

And yesterday, I finally had an opportunity to figure out the random number generator thingy to assist me in selecting winners!

I'm very pleased to announce that the 3 copies are going to most fabulous destinations from sea to shining sea!

The 1st copy will be shipped off to Bon at The Process.

The 2nd copy will be shipped off to Tangled Lou at Periphery.

The 3rd copy will be shipped off to Masked Mom.

I am so thrilled to be able to pass the spirit of giving on to these amazing women.

Thank you all for participating! I wish I could send a copy to each and every one of you who commented.

Searching for Courage

Several years ago, a friend of mine, a marathon runner, gave me a copy of John "The Penguin" Bingham's book The Courage to Start: A Guide to Running for Your Life. 

Seriously. She wanted me to start running. For fun. With these boobs. 

Delusional, I say, as nicely as possible.

However, since the gift was given with the best intentions, I read it...eventually...reluctantly. Turns out, it's a pretty good read. I enjoyed it from a theoretical, inspirational standpoint - mostly because I knew I had no intention of ever running. Not even for my life. Seriously. If the Zombie Apocalypse happens, I will be one of the first to go because I think I'd rather just go ahead and offer up my sweet meats to the living dead than lace up my shoes and outpace their shuffling with anything remotely resembling a jog. I shall consider this sacrifice of myself my last altruistic gift to my more survivalist and fleet-footed friends to give them more time to get away.

You're welcome.

Note: I won't even hold it against you when you smash my zombie brains in with a baseball bat. Promise. Just...uh...make sure I'm a zombie first and not just really super duper hungover, OK?

Anyway! The premise of the book is, surprise, that the first step is always the hardest. It takes courage to put your shoes on, step outside your front door, where all the neighbors can see...and point...and laugh as you waddle out into the world declaring "Look at me! See what I can do?"

Substitute "runner" for anything else we want to start, do, be (doo bee doo bee doo) and the message is the same: it takes a hell of a lot of courage to take that first step. A LOT of courage!

Courage, of course, has been on my mind a great deal since the start of the year given that it was the word I chose to manifest for 2012. The courage to start, to do, to be, to love, to live has been a mantra of sorts. I do my best to keep the concept at the fore lest I forget and lapse into complacency. It's working thus far.

But I haven't gotten as far as I would have liked as it pertains to writing. I've poked my nose out the front door, sneakers tied tight, taken a whiff of the air, and promptly slammed the door shut in Courage's face.

I've been reading Tangled Lou now for several months and, as she's gotten more courageous herself about describing her writing goals, asking How Do You Do That Thing We Do, I've begun, once again, to compare my writing to hers, to Uncle Typewriter's, and to a whole slew of other people's work and I lacked courage to continue. I felt stuck, blocked, bored with myself. If I'm bored with myself, how can I possibly manage to entertain anyone else? My funny bone's been broken, I think to myself, and if I can't write funny, I don't want to write at all.

But that's an excuse. It's not that I don't want to write. My problem is I think people come here because they want funny and I haven't been delivering. I've been letting everyone down and *gasp* we can't have that, now can we? Because meeting everyone else's expectations is what I'm here for...right? RIGHT?! Heh.

And then, because sometimes we really do get the *THWAP* of the zen stick - especially me - at precisely the moment we need it, I read several blog posts tonight from different sources that spoke to me about courage and my dilemma.

First, Single Dad Laughing wrote How I Lost 25,000 Followers On My Blog. For anyone who blogs and is concerned with statistics and growing blog audience, this is totally worth the read! In the post, Dan talks about his fear of losing precious readers every time he posts something he feels will be controversial or upsetting to his readers. He goes on to talk about how, literally, every time that fear has gripped his heart as he's clicked "Publish", he did lose a few readers...and gained thousands more. Every time he's faced his fear, gathered up his courage, and spoke his mind - no matter the consequence - his post has gone viral.

Then, because this is how the Universe works, I read a re-post by Mlle. Lapin of Neil Gaiman's Tumblr post regarding John Steinbeck's Six Tips on Writing. Namely, I was captivated by this one: Forget your generalized audience. In the first place, the nameless, faceless audience will scare you to death and in the second place, unlike the theater, it doesn't exist. In writing, your audience is one single reader. I have found that sometimes it helps to pick out one person - a real person you know, or an imagined person and write to that one.

Finally, I read Are you Sorry You Asked Yet?: Thanks For Asking, The Third & Final Part by Masked Mom in response to Tangled Lou's inquiry about how we do what we do and I was relieved. Her words echoed what I'd been thinking and feeling. I couldn't answer Lou's question because I don't understand my own process. I just...do what I do.

I can tell you how I began to write. I can tell you, and this ties into the Pet Peevery Lane post from last night and why the need to speak and not being allowed to do so is such a hot spot for me, is that, as the youngest of four in an unhappy home where monsters were very real and the one message I received often and in whispers was "Keep yourself hidden. Don't wake the dragon. Don't make waves," writing was my only outlet, my only voice.

I can tell you why I write now. In essence, I write because I must. Not to write would mean to allow the words to congregate, accumulate, and push against my better judgment - not unlike backed up sewage against a tree-root blocked pipe.

But I cannot tell anyone my process because I don't know or understand my process other than this...

I start at the very beginning. A very good place to start. It usually begins with a title. A spark of imagination. A thought. It begins with courage to speak. And, once the first step is taken, my waddle out into the world shouts, "Look at me! See what I can do?"

WOW! Another One?!

I received another blogging award. No really! I totally did! I received the Versatile Blogger Award.

I have to tell you...these blogging awards are so new to me - people I don't even know read and LIKE me - I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed by it (by all means, don't stop *laughing*).

I have to tell you though...the person who bestowed the Versatile Blogger Award on me - cdnkaro at four under 4 (plus two) - is, quite possibly, Super Woman literally. She speaks 6 languages, runs her own translation business, is pursuing her PhD, teaches at university, and is also raising 4 children under the age of 4 all while maintaining a regularly posted to blog. Are you not personally exhausted just reading about her? And yet, she takes every bit of it in stride like that's, wow, not awe-inspiring. In fact, an "I don't know how you do it!" statement is a pet peeve of hers. As she said about receiving her own Versatile Blogger award, "I'm just a woman doing the best she can with the four blessings that have come my way, trying to balance motherhood and home life with my 'extracurricular' pursuits. I live day to day, just like everyone else does, trying to find that elusive, mythical ideal known as 'balance' and just do the best I can, hoping I don't burn out or let people down along the way."

And this woman? This Super Woman who, admittedly, puts her pants on one leg at a time just like all of us? Takes the time - what little spare time she has - to read ME, y'all. Me. Little old Wyoming-born-and bred me. I feel...wow. I cannot tell you how honored I am that she would read, like, and want to hear more from me.

And yet...she wants to know more and I'm going to give it to her (although I ran out of intrigue a few days ago)!

However, I'm going to play this a bit differently. According to what she posted, the rules of the Versatile Blogger Award are this: "The premise behind the award is that the blogger who receives this award is invited to share seven things about themselves with their readers, and then pass on the award to 15 other bloggers."

I am, instead, going to take a page from Masked Mom and give you 7 favorite things from 7 favorite categories. You ready? OK! Let's go.

1) 7 things I wouldn't want to live without (excluding people):

• The interwebz.
• Paper and a writing utensil.
• Public radio.
• Cheese.
• Comfy pajamas.
• Wine.
• Love.

2) 7 literary characters I wish I could know in real life:

• Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird
• Anne Shirley from the Anne of Green Gables series
• Dr. Kay Scarpetta from Patricia Cornwell's novels
• Lucy Pevensie from The Chronicles of Narnia
• Elizabeth Bennett (and Mr. Darcy) from Pride and Prejudice
• Josephine March from Little Women
• Larry Underwood from Stephen King's The Stand

3) 7 celebrities I would invite to my Celebrity Supper Party (because a party of 8, including me, is the perfect number):

• Ira Glass (host of This American Life)
• David Sedaris (author and occasional contributor to This American Life)
• Sarah Vowell (author and occasional contributor to This American Life...theme here much?)
• Queen Latifah
• Megan Mullally (Karen from Will and Grace)
• Aisha Tyler (Lana from Archer)
• Richard Butler (singer for Psychedelic Furs)

Caveat: This list changes nearly daily.

4) 7 movies I know all the dialogue to:

• Aliens
• The Breakfast Club
• Sixteen Candles
• Pride and Prejudice (the BBC version with Colin Firth because ME-OW!)
• Terminator 2
• Big Trouble in Little China
• Grease

5)  7 skills I wish I had acquired:

• Drawing
• Quilting
• Hacking
• Decorating
• Fingernail painting
• Speaking (6...SIX!) foreign languages
• Solid boundary setting

6) 7 occupations I would have excelled at:

• Mathematician
• Counselor
• Actress
• Doctor
• Teacher
• Judge
• Stand up comedian

7) 7 songs I can hear again and again without tiring of:

Brand New Day from The Wiz



Covenant's Bullet



Run from Gnarls Barkley



Gimme Shelter from The Rolling Stones



A Forest from The Cure



Comfortably Numb from Pink Floyd



You Ain't No Good from The Bamboos



Oh!

Wow!

That was 7 in 7. Or 7 and 7 as the Goth Father might appreciate. By jove, I think I've done it!

And now I'm supposed to bestow this award on 15 others...except...I can't. Mostly because, as cdnkaro mentioned, several of the bloggers I follow have already received this - among others - award. And y'all - most of you - know about each other.

So, I'm mostly going to point you in the direction of my Blog Roll. If you're looking for other people to read and follow, those are the ones you ought to be taking a look see.

Except...I am going to point you to a few. who deserve the Versatile Blogger Award..

Last Minute Mommy - Mandy awarded me the Leibster Award for the second time. I didn't acknowledge her then here, in this blog, but I do adore her and she needs to be recognized for her own writing. Frankly, I started following her well before she started reading me. She's lovely. Thank you, Mandy, for writing and your support of my own writing. I know you're taking a break. But The Grotto inhabitants and the ones you think have fabulous names await your grand return!

Successfully Underachieving - Who thinks she's never picked for these kinds of awards. Well, Lovely, you've been picked now. What will you do about it? She's raw and fresh and trying to find her way through her 20's post-divorce. Give her some love and encouragement, won't you?


The last one I'm going to mention, well, it's not because she's a Versatile Blogger. But I want to call your attention to her because A) if you're interested in food and health and a holistic, natural approach to life and food, she is sincerely your girl and B) because she's my sister and I think she is phenomenal, inspirational, and brilliant. Please take a look at Monica Corrado at Simply Being Well. She knows more about food and holistic health than anyone ought to know. She is particularly focused on what is good, healthy, holistic, and balanced for children under 5...my nephew, himself, is just turning six (SIX!) today! I swear she knows what she is talking about...for infants, toddlers, and adults. Go! Love her! Read her! Me and she and they will thank you.

Seven

OK...just in case you haven't figured it out, Word Nerd Speaks is 100% covered in awesome sauce!

I can't figure out how she does it but, in between working, writing, and living her life she still manages to find time to read a gazillion blogs and comment on them...all the time. Not only is she a fantastic writer but she's also out there, in the trenches of the internet, supporting lots of other people who write - one of those people being me. Perhaps she has minions who help her. I don't know. All I know is that I'm always flattered to see a comment from her come through my inbox and humbled to know I appear on her blogroll *blush*.

So, when she indicated that she'd chosen me to participate in the Tell Me About Yourself Award, I was pleased, a little speechless, and wondering how in the world I was going to make myself sound like the intriguing Jane she thinks I am *laughing*. I'm not intriguing! I'm just...JANE in my infinite wisdom.

However, here are my 7 Things About Jane You Wish You'd (Never) Known:

1) I'm ambidextrous. I mention this because, until Sunday, not even Acr0nym knew. I take it for granted and am surprised when people thinks it's some wildly impressive talent. *shrug* I dunno. I just can do everything with either hand. Now, I do write almost exclusively righthanded although I can write with my left hand - just not upside down as Lex recently discovered. Nearly everything else - eating, bowling, applying mascara - I predominantly use my left hand but am equally as good (or, in the case of bowling, as bad) with either hand.

2) I am decidedly pre-maturely grey. My first grey hair was discovered by Carrie Wunder as we were lined up on the playground of Fort Caspar Elementary School in 1982. I was 10. And I will never forgive that cute little redheaded, be-freckled girl for announcing it in her outside voice to everyone else in the class. "YOU HAVE A GREY HAIR!!!!!" Subsequently, I dyed my hair for the first time when I was 15 the afternoon of my first rock concert - Anthrax and KISS. It was eggplant or aubergine. I didn't stop dying my hair - I've had it nearly every color included in the Crayola Deluxe 64-Pack - until I was in my 30's. At which point I decided I just didn't care for the expense of the upkeep. Now I have great streaks of silver and many people, upon our first meeting, exclaim, "OH! I love your hair!" Take THAT, Carrie Wunder!!! I have grey hair!

3) Back in the day, I was an award-winning pianist. Let me qualify this...that's when I was in my mid-teens. I haven't played really since I attended a summer-long elite summer camp for musicians and discovered that, while I was top notch back in Wyoming, I was a no one among child prodigies - and I met an awful lot of child prodigies that summer. Additionally, while I was concert mistress for the city-wide youth orchestra in Casper, WY, among the elite, I was 2nd violin LAST CHAIR. I didn't even make the camp choir. At that point, I called a cease and desist on all attempts at creating music. Ever since, I've questioned my talents and my abilities...including (perhaps especially) writing. Except...now I know I do have talent - it may not be as developed as, say, Livvy's Life, but I haz it. And I don't have to be the greatest writer of all time! No. I have to just keep writing, developing, risking myself and my talents because that's what I was born to do. It is me - represented, edited, published or not. Music was me too. But I gave up on it when I knew I would never be the best. Shame on me.

4) I love to read. I read voraciously every day. But, especially as I've grown older, I mainly read what I've already read. Reading is my comfort food - like cheese. At the end of my day, I rarely want to be challenged by something new. Instead, I want to curl up with a favorite character - preferably one who appears throughout a series - because they are my oldest friends. For instance, Anne of Green Gables is my dearest love. She is my all-time favorite literary character (and for someone who refuses to pick a favorite, that's truly saying something extraordinary). I strive to be like her. She is the reason I long to visit Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia. But there is also Frodo Baggins and Kay Scarpetta and Laura Ingalls Wilder and Lucy Pevensie and Harry Potter and Josephine March and Nancy Drew. They are beloved. And I read them, at least, once every 2 years.

5) I haven't had television channels since 2001. I couldn't afford both high-speed internet and television then so I chose internet and I gave up television. To replace TV, I listened to hours upon hours of National Public Radio, Public Radio International, American Public Media, and the BBC while I surfed the internet and wrote vast tomes to a number of penpals (some in prison) and to my personal journal. I do not, under any stretch of the imagination, regret this decision. While there are a few television shows I am, at least, aware of since then, there are very few who garner my attention and only at the request of friends and benefactors. Frankly, I'm much happier not being a slave to television. Right now, at this moment, other than the clack-clack-clack of the keyboard keys and the whir of my ever-present fan and the ambient noises of Lex's forays into the kitchen, my house is completely silent. This is a good thing.

6) This blog, Jane In Her Infinite Wisdom, is mirrored at another URL - Jane Is a Mean Horrible Bitch. This started out as a joke between me and Lex because, in his opinion at least, there is nothing further from the truth. I am not mean...pretty much ever. He is convinced, even when he knows I'm feeling mean, that I am sincerely nice and, more importantly, gentle. Conceptually, Jane Is a Mean Horrible Bitch was supposed to be a themed website - like LOLcats or Texts From Last Night. It was SUPPOSED to be a website full of pictures of people cowering in every state of bloodied gore and me standing over them laughing. Except...um...I can't actually get people to cower before me. Mostly, people giggle when I scowl. Regardless, modchen, upon hearing the website treatment, bought the domain for me and re-directed it to Jane In Her Infinite Wisdom until I was ready to do something with it. I feel guilty that we've done nothing with it beyond acting as a mirror. Except...at least one person out there thinks I'm A) a mean horrible bitch and B) worth reading because they continue to access my blog through that url. Weird? Uh huh. Paranoia invoking? Uh huh.

7) I ran out of intriguing stuff so I asked Lex, "If you had to pick one thing, one thing that describes me, that maybe not everyone knows, what would it be?"

He said, " You are wise beyond words. You might not think so. Maybe everybody knows so. But, when I think of you, the very first thing I think of when I think of my Jane is that you are wise...beyond measure."

*tears*

I'm supposed to pick 15 other bloggers who I'd choose to tell me, in return, 7 things about themselves. I can't pick 15 people because every single person who is reading this would be my pick. So...if you're so inclined, would you tell me 7 things not everyone knows about you? It would mean an awful lot...

Via blog, e-mail, phone call, Facebook post. Tell me. I want to know YOU. Yes, you. Because you. Sincerely. I want to know you. I promise. I pinky swear. YOU.

So...Now What?

This is it.

This is the last post of NaBloPoMo and, while much of my growing audience are fellow bloggers, my other followers - hi, Mom! - aren't...most of them anyway. They're all probably really REALLY glad this is the last one. Namely so I'll stop blogging about blogging and get back to my regularly scheduled program of broadcasting Jane TV^TM.

Confession: NaBloPoMo and the act of blogging every single day is not hard for me (don't hate on me please). Ever since I was bitten by the NaBloPoMo bug in 2009, I've managed to keep the momentum going for over two years. The last I checked, I average 7.2 blog posts per week. Not as prolific as Om Malik but I'm up there.

If you read (or re-read) last night's post, To Daily Blog or Not To Daily Blog...That is the Question, you'll notice much of it is written in the second person. I was talking to YOU, Lovely Readers, specifically to the You-Who-Blog. I already daily blog and that's not likely to change. I was spotty this spring and summer when my life was just...my life was weird and felt as though it was falling apart and I was afraid to say anything much at all for fear of what might come out of my mouth that should not be uttered publicly. Generally speaking though, if you don't hear anything from me in 2-3 days, to quote the walrus from Ren & Stimpy, "Call the POL-EEEEEECE".



Honestly though, I never expected or necessarily wanted to get big or rich off blogging. I don't have a "brand" per se. I never gave it that much thought. Blogging is...blogging is like talking to my friends! It's a casual conversation  - yes, typically one-sided - but still a conversation. At least, that's how I see it for myself. I love doing it which is why it is likely to continue for (dare I say) years to come.

Confession: I have more to write than blog posts. Additionally, I actually have the time to write more than blog posts. I just...haven't yet.

Last year, after NaBloPoMo, I was looking for a new writing challenge. I found it in #reverb10. I'd link to #reverb10 but the website has morphed into something else so I'll just explain, as best I can. #Reverb10 was a writing challenge - daily prompts - through the month of December that reflected on the year just passed and an attempt to manifest what the participants wanted for the year to come.

There was a particular prompt - December 28: Achieve. What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.

My answer is here.

Guess what didn't happen? That's right. I didn't birth those "babies".

I started to. Of course I did. But then life and insecurities, depression and distraction took hold and I, well, I just didn't write like I wanted to write...until now.

This year's NaBloPoMo along with the encouragement and attention I've received gave me back my writing Mojo.

As I thought back to my "girls" who were kicking, screaming, crying, and punching to be let out last year, I realized that one, in particular, deserved more than a short story. She most certainly deserved to manifest in more than a blog post.

And that's Bomb Betsy's story.

I don't call her Bomb Betsy just because she's The Bomb (even though she is). Bomb Betsy is also known as Bomb Betsy because of what she went through, survived and thrived through, more than 5 years ago...a terrorist bombing in Dahab, Egypt.

I have her story to tell. It's a magnificent, terrifying, uplifting, beautiful story. But...

I have several other stories to tell as well. All of them worthy of something bigger than a blog post.

It helps that I ran across this post today on BlogHer about the power of copy editing (that was my take away anyway). It helps that I've been following Love, Your Copyeditor by Ray Gunn for awhile now. It helps to know that, even though my posts aren't edited, there are still many MANY people reading - more than I would have ever suspected - and enjoying how I write.

I CAN write. I DO write. And, what I don't think to correct is correctable by others...if I'm willing to put it out there for others to consider and correct.

So...that's my NaBloPoMo now what. I'm ready. To move beyond.

I think.

To Daily Blog or Not to Daily Blog...That is the Question

There are thousands of personal bloggers in the Blogosphere breathing a heavy sigh of relief tonight. Why? Because. 1¹ more post to go and NaBloPoMo 2011 is laid to rest.

Some - like alienbody - have already written their posts for tomorrow and have set it to auto-publish...you know, just in case the "zambie" apocalypse happens and they're too busy running for their lives (or eating whipped cream and pie) to login and click "Publish". I love how she's covering all her bases.

The point is she did it.

Many of you did it. Some of you for the very first time. Some of you for the 6th time - like Masked Mom.

And always there is that sigh of relief and a major sense of accomplishment. You've proven to yourself that - even with jobs, spouses, partners, kids, colds, major holidays, travel, lack of inspiration, attention to personal hygiene, sleep, and everything else you had to do this month - you can and did publish something every single day.

Some of you are distressed or feel guilty about the quality of your content - like Word Nerd Speaks. Some of you - like Livvy - felt as though you were failing (but did not) mid-month. Some, like Home Reared Chef, cheered us all on from the sidelines - even after she, herself, had to take a break from blogging for a number of personal reasons.

The point is you did it and well - even if you felt like your content was crap (it wasn't).

So...what now?

Many of you blog because you want to be read. Many of you blog because there is a dream of becoming one of the "Big Kids" of blogging. You know, the ones who blog for fun as well as for profit? Well...every single one of the Big Kids will tell you blogging isn't always fun or easy or fast.

It's hard work.

Today, I read a blog post from Om Malik - one of the Big Kids - about having blogged daily for 10 years. TEN YEARS, People!

He started blogging professionally (and personally...but his stats don't include his personal entries) 10 years ago. He's averaged THREE posts per day since he began...even with a family and a full time job. That's a lotta posting.

In the entry marking his 10th Anniversary of Blogging, he listed 10 lessons learned about blogging.

Here are the first four:

1. Blogging is communal: In 2008, I wrote that “blogging is not just an act of publishing but also a communal activity. It is more than leaving comments; it is about creating connections.” That is the single biggest lesson learned of these past 10 years. Every connection has lead to a new idea, new thought and a new opportunity.
2. Being authentic in your thoughts and voice is the only way to survive the test of time.
3. Being wrong is as important as being right. What’s more important — when wrong, admit that you are wrong and listen to those who are/were right.
4. Be regular. And show up to blog every day. After all you are as fresh as your last blog post.

Be regular. Because if you only post once a month? You're going to be hella smelly.

Interestingly, he goes on to state in lesson #6: "...blog if you have something to say and respect your reader’s time."

This seemed to me, given Word Nerd Speaks' post, a particular conundrum. How are we supposed to be regular if we don't always have something to say?

The answer is...we don't. But we try to come up with interesting and relevant content - every single day.

Be honest. During the month of November, did you not dream about content, wake up thinking about content, and, on the days you were totally blocked from writing, wrack your brain for content? Did not, each and every one of us who finished NaBloPoMo, come up with content every single day?

It was Livvy who said, "...On these days I wake already writing in my head...By the time I get back to the house I have taught myself (it's taken a year) to ignore the beds, the washing-up, the washing and simply make a coffee on the stove, turn on the computer and... start."

Start.

You've already started. Haven't you?

So...again, I ask you, now what?

What do you want from the NaBloPoMo experience? It's perfectly acceptable to say all you wanted was the knowledge that you'd successfully posted every day. But...what if there is more to it?

If you're looking for more and more readers, if you're looking to "build your brand", if you're looking to write beyond your blog and make enough money to sustain you and your family on, you're going to have to continue what you started.

Otherwise? You're just...smelly.

You've already started. Only you are keeping yourself from success.

Right?



1: OK 2 if you haven't knocked out today's post yet. In which case, why are you reading me? Go! Now! Go! Get ye to your own blog :).

I Feel Just Like Sally Field

I can't deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me!

November has certainly been an interesting  - if not always pleasant - ride. I can't remember the last time I had such an event-filled, whirlwind month. Is it really Thanksgiving today?

NaBloPoMo has played an integral role in how my November has shaped up and played out. I had no idea when I climbed into the NaBloPoMo cart on November 1 just what a roller coaster it was going to be.

I, of course, signed up for the Official NaBloPoMo roll call on BlogHer because YAY! Prizes. Daily prizes. And a chance to potentially be spotlighted or whatever it's called.

I haven't won any prizes. I haven't been spotlighted. I don't really expect to because, well, I've never won anything...

Until now.

I was in just the right mental space to dig into NaBloPoMo this year. Not as far as my writing was concerned - although I was ripe for that too - but I desperately wanted to find new bloggers to add to my feed reader...namely to keep me engaged and off Facebook *laughing*.

As I started reading new blogs, I, for the first time ever, understood the value of a comment - MY comment - and just how much something little 'ol me might have to say would mean to another blogger. Although, I'm not convinced the content of my comments are the point. I think just knowing someone out there is reading is what's important.

However, commenting did something else. It called other bloggers' attention to me and my writing. And they more than repaid the comment love back to me. This. Is. Cool.

So...about what I won.

Last night, I received a comment on my blog from Masked Mom - someone whose blog I truly love - letting me know she'd given me the Liebster Award.

"Liebster" is a German word meaning dearest and the award is given to up-and-coming bloggers with less than 200 followers.

Here's how it works:

1. Show your thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.

2. Reveal your Top 5 blogs (with under 200 followers) and let them know by leaving comments on their blogs.

3. Post the Award on your blog.

4. Enjoy the love of some of the most supportive people on the Internet.

This is a big deal to me. It means that someone, particularly a person whose writing I love, thinks I'm pretty neat. And it's always awesome to find out someone else - a total stranger - thinks you're pretty neat.

What's awesome about this is that I'd just been thinking about asking people to share with me the Star small blogs they'd found during NaBloPoMo (and I'd encourage you to do that in comments) so that I could find them too. This award has led me down a rabbit hole of great blogs just by clicking through on the links Masked Mom presented. So the prize is two-fold! I love knowing someone else thinks enough of me and my writing to give me the award, yes, but it's also turning me on to even more people to read!


Yay!

OK. So, without further ado, I present to you, in no particular order, my very own list of newly discovered blogs to whom I give the Liebster Award. I'm just sorry I couldn't bestow it back to Masked Mom. This was WAY tougher than you can possibly imagine.

1) This n that that n this - This is one of the first blogs I found. I'm waiting to find out what her Super Power is any day now.

2) Is This the Middle? - She had me hooked from the very post of hers I read - Virginity Lost (and no, it's not that kind of virginity).

3) Livvy's Life - You guys! Her writing is perfectly elegant in a cashmere blanket sort of way. Never have I been able to picture the scenes as well as I do through her words. Simply beautiful.

4) The Process - Bon Steele. Social anxiety, blue hair, a love of stompy boots. There's not a thing not to love about her.

5) Simply Frances - Frances found me and showed me some blog love when she linked to me as a noteworthy find. What I found on her blog is a woman whose adventures around New York City, observations of her fellow train travelers, her food escapades, and her photo walks make me want to go to New York and hang out with her...RIGHT NOW.

Those are my picks. There are so many more I could have easily included. I may wait a few days and do this again because there are others who assuredly do deserve to be recognized.

(To my picks, you are under no obligation to pass on the Liebster Award. I just wanted you each to know just how neat I think you are!)

Happy Thanksgiving.

Freeing Fodder Food for Thought

Just this morning, I was introduced to Neil Strauss - author, journalist, ghost writer. FYI: His blog requires a login. It's free but you do have to sign up to access his content.

I found him because a particular Redhead Writing Ranting linked to one of his blog articles on Twitter.

The post she linked to, Getting in the Dirt, is about writing your memoirs and how vitally important it is to share secrets with your readers. He says, "you must not be afraid to share things that may make you look bad, cause others to judge you, or even harm relationships you have".

Because Lovely Readers will KNOW you're holding out.

When he said, "...the bricks that create each of us are not all made of gold. Some are shit. And we’re all a combination of both." I was struck dumb.

Because it's true.

I was so excited about this statement, I made Peej (who was over cleaning) come into my room so I could read it to her and, Peej being Peej, she had some incredible further insight. She said, "Well...that makes sense. When people want to read about a hero, they read Superman comics. They don't want Superman to be real. They want him to be perfect. If someone wants to read about someone who is like them - human and fallible - they will read Batman. Batman may be a good guy but he's human, he makes mistakes, his drive comes from an inherently human place. Readers connect with Batman because he is one of us." Or something like that anyway.

This got me thinking about why I read the blogs of so many people - everyday Janes and Joes - who aren't dispensing advice, or rattling off recipes, or recommending products but, rather, who are just talking about their lives, their thoughts, their work, their play, their struggles, their joys, their beliefs.

I read because those writers are real. And that's compelling. It makes me feel...less alone.

Melanie over at Is This the Middle posted this morning about how grateful she is for her fellow bloggers. She called us "a proud to be quirky lot". I loved that. It's true. You have to be pretty quirky to actually want to do what we do on a daily basis. And it's our very quirks that make us readable, relatable.

All of a sudden, Neil Strauss's words made sense to me, connected dots for me that hadn't been visible before. No one wants me to be perfect...except me. Everyone else wants me to be exactly as I am, as they are.

Flawed.

I feel as though I've been set free.

Going to The Show

In baseball, when a player gets called up to the major leagues it's called "Going to The Show".




Tucked away in a dust-covered cardboard box in our storage room there is a little book called A Murder Mystery. Its dust jacket, a hilariously hideous scrap of 1960's-era flowered wallpaper in magnificent orange, yellow, and pea green; the title written by hand in carefully printed permanent black ink; the pages filled with that same careful penciled printing only a third-grader, quite proud of her penmanship award, could letter.

I have no recollection of the story itself but I can see it as plain as if it were lying on my desk next to me. It was my very first published work written for the Young Author's contest of 1980.

I've told the story of how I began to write and subsequently developed as a writer before - for the kick off of NaBloPoMo 2010 as a matter of fact. If you'd like, Lovely Reader, to go read the post I Write, Therefore I Am I will wait for you right here. I mention it because it is relevant but I don't want to be redundant.

Much of yesterday was spent gorging myself on the words of other people. I've added so many new blogs to my reader in the last 12 days I suspect it will, from time to time, be a challenge to keep up with all that they (you) are producing. The rest of my day, with the exception of the respite Acr0nym gave me when he arrived and took me to dinner, was spent writing and updating a few pages on my blog.

I stalled out on the "Favorites" page.

The other night, when I wrote A Cautionary Blogging Tale, I knew I was writing something particularly good. In fact, I begged Lex to read the post just after I'd published it because I wanted confirmation that the tingling in my thumbs I get when I've done well was for real.

Going back through old posts yesterday then, I was painfully aware of just how not-quite-up-to-par they were. At times, it was humiliating, but most often it was humbling to re-read and know others had read it too...and kept coming back to read more *laugh*.

Yet, there was gladness too. A particularly well-written turn of phrase would catch my eye and my heart would skip knowing I'd written it. There were even entire posts of which I felt I could be decidedly proud. Are they favorites though? Hell, I don't know. It's becoming harder and harder to pick favorites when they all feel like children I should have spent more time nurturing.

It's also daunting. I've posted nearly daily for over two years on this blog. I'm closer to 1,000 posts than I am 500. That's alotta words to wade through to find my diamonds in the rough. However, if I start from the very beginning, what I see is raw talent and a strong, relatable voice that really just needed practice.

A lot of practice.

[Ira] Glass, 50, said he still hears a few "vestigial" complaints about his voice, particularly from older listeners, like the woman who recently urged him to drop the "rapid-fire and not clearly enunciated" delivery.

The host suggests his reedy vocals have "a punk rock aesthetic," though he hesitates to put any label on it. His voice, it turns out, fits nicely with the devaluation of the God-like media voice and embraces the everyday voice of blogs, social media . . . life.

"I think for people who have heard the show, maybe they felt they could have a show too, even if they had a voice like mine," Glass said. "I think that sort of opened up a door. . . . I feel like we won that fight." - from an article by James Rainey in The Los Angeles Times


One does not just open her mouth one day and have a flight of arias come bursting forth. Realistically, she may never star in a Broadway musical or win a Grammy award either.

But...she can hope not to sound like Joe Cocker very often. And she can know, even if and when she does sound like a toad on toast, with practice, she can have her own moderately successful show too.

It may not be The Show but it CAN be a damn good show.

With practice.

Note: Dammit! When did I become a blogger who blogs about blogging?!

Uninterrupted

Saturday morning.

It's always so quiet at The Grotto first thing on Saturday and Sunday when even the cacophony of chatter in my head sleeps in with the rest of the world. I'm never anxious on these mornings and always grateful that I'm a morning person living with a night owl.

Even Vinny, who is only mildly demanding on weekday mornings, seems to sense it's Sleep Late Day as he stretches lazily off his $80 chiropractic pillow¹ only to burrow deep into the bedcovers I've just vacated so as to take full advantage of my residual body heat.

Later, the phone will ring and I'll have my Saturday morning chat with BFF, Acr0nym. Eventually, Lex will stir out of his man cave and start making his man noises. He'll likely come in and roust the cat off my bed. He'll want to talk to me too.

But, for the first few hours of this day, it's just me, quietly thinking, reading, taking mental and emotional inventory, and making notes.

I caught myself thinking just a bit ago, "I wish there was more time. I wish the time to write was there when I wanted it. There just never seems to be enough time."

I promptly followed that thought up by loading a fresh solitaire game up on my computer. *shaking head*

When I realized what I'd done, I closed the game unfinished and gave myself a stern talking to because I am rich with time. I have no human children and quite possibly the most congenial, undemanding fur kid in my neighborhood. I work 40 hours a week - rarely more, and have a partner whose expectations of me are so well-managed, nearly all of my personal time is my very own. We even have someone come in to clean once a month.

Don't hate me for that, OK? We aren't rich. We live well below our means - in a basement apartment (garden-level in polite company) - and drive 10-year-old cars. For us, having our home cleaned (lovingly by a friend in need of monetary assistance), is a splurge we're willing to make because it does free up more time for what we both love...writing.

I realize now it isn't more time I wish for it's more time selfishly uninterrupted I crave. Sensitive to noise, even the sound of the fan I keep running as white noise to drown out the city streets outside my window can be distracting...usually when I'm cold and want to turn it off but won't knowing full well what it sounds like without it's consistent whirring.

Oddly, noise doesn't bother me at night while I sleep. I sleep like the dead. It's only during waking hours when the voices are crowding around in my head and I'm constantly fighting to shove them aside to make room for my conscious thought. It's no wonder I'm always tired.

I am more inspired to write than perhaps I've ever been. There is a steady stream of ideas churning in the muddied waters of my life, building up and getting ready to break free. I feel myself wanting to withdraw from social obligations, pushing loved ones away to make room for me to unleash the floodgates...

And yet, I know too well just how much I'll want human interaction on the other side. I know just how hard I've worked to build and nurture friendships over these last 10 years and how easy it is to alienate people who genuinely love me if I decline just one invitation too many.

Balance. Patience. Discipline. These things lead to time uninterrupted. Even if that time is only on chilly Saturday mornings with the fan running. I can put socks and my robe on to keep warm.

Oh! There's Acr0nym calling *smile*. He's early. This will be one of the best parts of my day.



1. I bought the pillow for me but it fits his little black body so perfectly, I can't bear to take it back from him.

Blogging...Is This a Conversation or a One-Way Street?

I swear I am not a blogger who blogs about blogging...no matter how it may seem just now.

However, what started as an I-don't-know-what-to-write-so-I'm-going-to-write-about-this post has sparked an awful lot of thoughtful dialogue and the conversation has drawn out all these threads of additional possibilities I hadn't considered. So! Yet another blog entry about blogging. I'd apologize to you all but...

This is likely fortunate for you as I had intended to summarize Weber's The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism tonight...through interpretative dance.

I'm kidding. I don't actually dance. Not in public anyway. Not even for the cat...very often. It scares him much like the vacuum does.

Anyway!

So my friend, Mr. Finger, a fellow (albeit very occasional) blogger and I were talking about the premise of my earlier post - obligation to our readers - and he asked me an interesting question...

Is blogging a monologue or is it a conversation?

Finger felt like the answer to the question I'd posed laid in the philosophy of each individual blogger about how they saw their space and how they treated comments.

Now, of course, I know it is not that simple. Based on the responses I've gotten in the last couple of days, I know many people feel no obligation whatsoever - comments or no - to say adieu to readers when life gets out-of-control weird and complicated as it's wont to do. Others hadn't given it any thought but, upon contemplation, decided they did think some kind of farewell (with or without an explanation) was a necessary courtesy. Still others were surprised to think someone might care if they disappeared (this makes me want to hug you all like Naked Jen would).

But! I do think Finger had his astute finger (heh...sorry, I didn't mean to) on the pulse of truth. Particularly with his follow up thought which was this (I'm paraphrasing but pretending it's a quote...artistic license), "If a blogger puts out content and enables comments, whether anyone comments or not, are they not inviting discourse? Are they not opening up their lane to oncoming traffic? If they do this, then it's a conversation and, unless you're impolite, you don't walk away from a conversation unfinished."

Heh. There is (at least) one blogger I know intimately who is, right at this moment, thinking, "HA! Wrong!" OK well...she'd be much more eloquent in her rebuttal because she is the essence of eloquence but she's not here and I am. I also know what she's thinking, not because she's a good friend but, because the Divatologist has already explained (and re-iterated) her thoughts and policy on comments.

However...

1) The Divatologist is the exception to nearly every rule.
2) The Divatologist is awesome at boundary setting. Jane In Her Infinite Wisdom? Not so much sometimes.
3) While she's not much for goodbyes, I do suspect there'd be an epilogue of some sort simply because she'd consider it something of a gaffe not to - like forgetting to place appropriate punctuation at the end of a sentence. Maybe she'll comment and set me straight *laugh*.

Now, I'll admit, while I LOVE getting comments - even though they are typically few and far between - I'm often terrible about responding to them. The main reasons for this are because:

1) Many blogging platforms (like my own on blogger) make it nearly impossible to reply to a commenter directly. My comments get added in chronological order to all the other comments.
2) Unless you're particularly savvy about how to receive notification that a comment has been commented upon (and I am not savvy), I tend to think a commenter will never know I've had any kind of follow up interaction with them specifically.
3) I personally can't keep track of all the comments I've made on everyone else's blogs and make the assumption no one else can either. Therefore, I struggle with whether or not I ought to speak, knowing the other person has left the "room", and isn't likely to be back.

Except...

I realized today that replying to comments isn't so much about the reply itself...the original commenter probably won't be back to check to see if I've said anything. The reply is, in essence, for the next person who comes along and has something they're compelled to add to the conversation. It's a signal to the next commenter that I am, in fact, listening to what other people have to say, that I acknowledge it, and appreciate it.

Also? I kinda think it's the polite thing to do.

Bloggers tend to lament about our lack of comments even though analytics suggest we've got readers tuning in and then we yell and/or beg for people to just, please, comment!

What was my point again???

Oh. Yeah. So I don't always treat my commenters with the respect I ought to...not because I don't appreciate them but because I don't expect a dialogue between just the two of us. However, I do think of my blog as a conversation and not just me spouting my ramblings and blasphemy all over the walls of my cozy cubby on the internet (I have a glorious window though even if it is small) thinking no one else is reading or caring if they do. I do care. And I would, if I decided to (which seems unlikely), tell you all I was leaving and give you hugs - I'm a hugger - before I set off to sound my "barbaric yawps over the roofs of the world."

So...I'm asking you. How do you treat comments? Do you think of your blog as a conversation (even if no one comments) or a one-(wo)man show? If you view it as a conversation, do you or don't you feel obligated to appropriately punctuate the end/long-term break of your blog with a statement of "don't worry, I'm going away/taking a break/I'm [fill in the blank]"?

I believe Finger is on to something but, for now, it's a hypothesis. I'd like proof to formulate my theory - which would be a lot less dry than Weber's theory of economics...at least, I think.

Just so you know, while it'll not be interpretative dance, tomorrow I might draw illustrations for you.  This should terrify you. Vinny, the cat, likes my drawings about as much as he likes my dancing.

Case in point:

Me being attacked by spiders. I am, in reality, much fatter than this.

I (am potentially getting ready to break said) promise I will not be blogging about blogging.

The Intimacy and the Cost of Blogging

They say radio is the most intimate of all types of media.

If you listen to a lot of talk radio (NPR junkies represent) as I do, I suspect you know on a personal level what that means. Distinctive voices heard day after day from the clock radio alarm, during commutes, while cooking supper, lulling a listener to sleep. Somehow, those voices begin to take on meaning in our lives...they become good, comfortable friends like no television personality can.

If you're an NPR listener and traveling, "home" is as close as your nearest radio dial where Steve Inskeep, Renee Montagne, Carl Kassell, Robert Siegel, Scott Simon, Nina Totenberg, Ira Glass, Tom and Ray the tap-it brothers, Garrison Keillor (and so many many others) live. It can be so very comforting.

I'll admit. I cried the day Daniel Schorr died.

Radio personalities have a way of connecting with listeners in such a way as to almost seem as though they're having a one-on-one conversation with each and every one of us. Good radio personalities are consummate storytellers, reminiscent of a long ago time when the only kind of story was an oral history passed down through the generations by weaving words into luxurious fabric in which to wrap rapt listeners.

But there are other voices, other storytellers, making a personal mark that rivals radio in an even more deeply personal way.

They (we) are personal bloggers.

I come to you, ready to get cozy with you over a glass of wine, with this tonight because one of my favorite bloggers, Kris over at Not a Girl, Not Yet a Wino, has re-emerged after a lengthy blog hiatus.

I'd been following Kris for quite some time when she just...petered out with little explanation. And I was sad because Kris had become a sort of "friend" to me...someone I'd like to hug if ever given an appropriate chance. She had such a strong, clear voice and so many of her trials, tribulations, and triumphs she wrote about resonated with me that I truly considered her someone noteworthy in my life.

I know. That probably sounds weird and vaguely bordering on restraining order time.

But anyone who reads a lot of personal blogs and who, likely, blogs themselves totally gets that, right?

We connect with each other. That's why we read. That's why we write, right?

So when Kris magically appeared after having been largely absent for over a year, I was ecstatic! And she even said she was back so I've got actual hope that we'll hear from her more frequently than, say, every 6 months.

But that's got me pondering...

Do we, as bloggers, have any obligation to our Lovely Readers? What happens when life or writer's block or boredom gets in the way and we suddenly find ourselves unable to produce any kind of publishable content? Do we owe readers an explanation? Would we give a dear friend an explanation if we were getting ready to plunge into the depths of the no-contact abyss for months at a time? Is it the same thing?

There was another blogger, Cream, I followed for about a year. I'd link to it here but it's no longer available for public eyes. I found this blogger in the "Life Blogs" directory at BlogHer when I first joined the site. Over several months, I, more and more, looked forward to her posts. Not exactly because they were well-written - even though they were - but because her STORY was so compelling I couldn't stop reading. Religion, job/soul searching, and her attempts to find the ever elusive love were common threads throughout. She was able to convey all of these things in such a heart-wrenchingly honest way that, I confess, I was addicted to her story - not unlike how people get addicted to soap operas.

Her last posts became focused on a man. A man she'd fallen in love with and a man who, purportedly, loved her...he was married. There were probably ten or so posts about him. And then, out of the blue, she posted one last public entry to state that, because of the tenuous marriage situation, she'd no longer be posting publicly.

Wait!

WHAT?!

You cannot do this to me!!! Uh...right?

From that moment on, her blog posts - all of them, even the earliest ones that had been public - have become private. I continue to carry her in my blog reader anyway just in case there's a slim chance that, like Kris, she'll reappear and tell me how her story played out.

And, while I thoroughly understand why she locked her blog down as tight as Fort Knox, I'm still left hanging, painfully, waiting for some kind of resolution.

Is that fair?

Is it fair to put yourself way out there (beyond your mom) - and by that I mean go so far as to list yourself in a highly popular public blog directory like BlogHer - and then, just cuz you want to, pull the carpet from underneath dedicated, loving readers?

I understand about oversharing. I really, truly do.

But...what's the line? Do bloggers like Kris, Cream, and [redacted] (who also disappeared shortly after announcing his long anticipated engagement) get to disappear into the mid-day sun without so much as a "screw you"?

We think we're out here, blogging, for ourselves. But! The moment we advertise ourselves and gain a following...whether that following is 10, 100, or 100,000+...we owe something to our readers. Something tremendous. Something well beyond ourselves.

We owe our Lovely Readers a story and, at the very least, a solid resolution.

Don't leave me hanging. If you do? I'll never buy anything you might write.

And I'll recognize your voice. Rest assured.

Think. Care.

Thank You, Fellow Bloggers...For More Than You Know

This may be stating the obvious for some but this spring and summer were particularly difficult for Jane In Her Infinite Wisdom.

As near as I can pinpoint, back in April, I found myself floundering in a pool of anxiety, stress, and depression like I hadn't experienced in quite some time. I slogged around in it, churning in it, much of the time, and increasingly became more and more agitated, angry, frustrated, and just plain disgusted by the State of the World and particularly the State of Jane.

As the stress increased, so too did my Facebook time. It got to the point where I felt as though I was addicted to it, addicted to the zone out it provided. I was checking it multiple times a day, not really paying attention to it but perusing it just the same, "liking" stuff I didn't actually care about, not reading any of the articles or watching any of the videos, just...sitting there watching the world go by in a stream of, frankly, crap.

Additionally, I was ignoring other aspects of my life...my relationships, my writing, my blog reader. Every once in awhile, I'd wander over to my Google Reader and see 200, 300, 500+ new posts, get overwhelmed, mark all as "read", and close the window vowing to check it daily from that point forward...and then weeks would pass without so much as a glance at what other people - people I genuinely enjoy - were writing.

And then one day?

I just snapped. I don't know what it was that triggered the breaking point but, when I hit the wall of apathy, I called a moratorium on all Facebook activity. I didn't check in at all for several days. I didn't do much of anything at all on the computer for several days. I just let myself be...alone.

It was then I realized what was causing some of my constant agitation. Facebook had always been a way for me to connect with friends, know what they were up to, let them know what I was up to, on a daily basis. I've got a wide circle of friends and, even though I can't possibly see everyone as often as I'd like, Facebook allowed me to keep up with all the news so that I could stay connected - at least, virtually - without making an already jam packed social calendar a nightmare. Unfortunately, increasingly, Facebook had become a sort of data warehouse for SHIT I DID NOT CARE ABOUT. Videos, lolcats, articles I had no intention of reading, demotivation posters. Trying to find even one status update that wasn't one of these things had become an arduous task I didn't have time or energy for and it was really pissing me off!

Of course, I went back. Thankfully, I'd learned a lesson or two and limited the time I spent and became more thoughtful about my interactions and my "likes".

When a Google + account invitation was extended to me the day it debuted, I signed up, signed on, and relished in the peace and quiet of the space. Few were talking. When they did, I was able to actually listen. This remains the case. I prefer Google + because it isn't a constant stream of nonsensical chatter. I like the simplicity of it, I like how I can pay more indepth attention to what is being posted, and I feel like I am participating more there because what's being said is more meaningful to me.

When Facebook subsequently made it's most radical changes to date shortly thereafter, it was even easier to spend less time there. I became even more wary of their privacy policies and their algorithms. I restricted and censored nearly every comment, every "like", every update I posted knowing whatever I did was showing up in 200+ people's tickers. I knew that, whatever I posted, if someone came along and commented on it, my post was then viewable to all the friends the commenter had in their tickers all around the world. I was decidedly uncomfortable and more than a little paranoid. I'm bound by an ethics policy after all - you know, if I'd like to stay employed.

So I withdrew even further from Facebook.

Then? Then Acr0nym and I took our trip. And all of a sudden, I had something to talk about that wasn't Jane In Her Infinite Angst. And I took full advantage of all the riches of that particular blog fodder. For the first time in months, I was blogging nearly daily - long, rambling posts - and it felt...AMAZING (even if I was full 'o phlegm).

Then, while I was documenting the American Gods and Roadside Attractions Tour in this very blog, I received comments from two women - strangers to me - who'd discovered my blog through our adventures in the Heartland. Go Big or Go Home was one and the other was The Shiftless Wanderer. Finding them both to be absolutely delightful in their own ways, I added them both to my Reader (which I had not checked in quite awhile). And then, when I was looking for something to read while taking a break from writing, I turned to my Google Reader - having browsed to both Facebook and Google + and finding nothing that held my interest.

What I discovered were riches beyond measure...little gems from all over the world...thoughtfully written missives about all sorts of things by all sorts of people!

There were nearly 300 unread items. I read each and every one of them that day. I re-discovered old "friends" - friends who'd continued to talk about life, continued to live life, in my absence. I realized I was loving every minute of these somewhat intimate details, these snapshots of people who'd captivated me enough to make me want to add them to my feed.

Since then, I've diligently checked my reader at least once a day. I've read every post - even if it meant I was forced to click through to the actual blog in order to finish reading the post - a complete nuisance (you do understand that isn't necessary, right? Your count will be the same if you allow the whole post to show up in rss feeds instead of making people click through. I swear.) - so that I could feast myself on other people's lovely words.

And I've been ever so much happier for it.

I'm connecting with people I don't even know - far better than I was connecting with people I do know on Facebook - because what the bloggers I read were putting out there was THEM...in their own infinite wisdoms. It felt SO good!

I've withdrawn much of myself from social media like Facebook and even, to some extent, Google +. I find myself turning more and more toward my blog feed reader because what y'all have to say seems more important to me somehow.

It's NaBloPoMo month. And, as I read through my Reader, I remember at what point I added so many to my feed during NaBloPoMo last year and then #reverb10...

Michael's Fishbowl
Uncle Typewriter
Geekin' Hard
Schmutzie
Letters from a Small State
Julie Unplugged

And so many more! I may not comment but, make no mistake, I am reading every word of you.

And here we are again, NaBloPoMo 2011 and I am ripe for even more. In the last 3 days, I've added another half dozen blogs to my reader...

Different but Determined
Life with a Parasite
Is This the Middle

And others.

We may have several things in common. We maybe have not a thing in common...except blogging. But something you said has made me laugh, or made me cry,  or made me FEEL...in a way people I know, people I only interact with on Facebook, can ever imagine.

Thank you.

I'm looking forward - SO MUCH - to adding more of you. <3

In Hindsight

One of the fascinating bonuses of keeping a blog is how, sometimes, randomly, my own words come back to inspire, haunt, and/or, occasionally, entertain me.

Every once in awhile, I'm caught off guard by something I've written well and don't remember I wrote until later when someone else references it, after I've read it through and find myself given attribution at the end. That actually happened on a comment to a recent entry where I was quoted from a post I wrote last summer and didn't remember writing. As I read the comment, I thought to myself, "While this doesn't appear to have anything to do with the topic at hand, this is really good stuff! I wonder who wrote this? Oh. Heh. Right."

It really was pretty fine stuff. It's times like those when I think I might have something special in me.

Sometimes, I'll put something out here that, when I'm writing it, I wonder if I should be writing it at all...feeling like perhaps it's too revealing. It's a difficult perch to sit upon when I'm writing. I don't want to be so cryptic as to lose my audience but I don't want to say too much and get anyone's panties in a massive wad of whatever...woe, anger, embarrassment.

But this is where another of these bonuses comes in. By putting some of that stuff out there, I get the chance later to re-examine thoughts, topics of concern, and feelings from a distance. I get to see what happened in hindsight - not as my memory recalls it but how Jane of however many moons ago saw it and documented it in the very moment it was happening.

That's pretty cool.

Case in point, in re-reading a post from May 2nd, I realized now that I knew then. I was given the information I did not want but got anyway knowing it spelled demise. I saw the train wreck before the train actually even technically left the station. Clinical, distanced Jane can see that now...in hindsight. Overwrought Jane of 2 months ago sensed it, spoke of it, but wasn't ready to let go of all hope, choosing, instead, to believe in sincerity (imagined???) and in other people's ability to see underneath the shallow surface to the truth.

Overwrought Jane was wrong. Oh she was so very wrong (oh my, how the Fairy Gothfather really hates it when I refer to myself in the 3rd person *laugh*). There was no hope. Few people have the ability to actually see underneath the shallow surface when the shallow surface is the path most easily traveled. Had overwrought Jane just let go right then and there, perhaps the grief, anxiety, worry, angst might have been lessened to a degree. Overwrought Jane, in fact, didn't have the guts to see what was underneath the shallow surface either. Oh sure. She got handed the shallow surface of one person...on the proverbial silver platter. She chose to avoid looking more deeply at the other one - the one she had such high hopes for. The one she should have known was, in all earnestness, a coward.

Expectations. High hopes. They are one and the same. I understand that now. I should have seen it then. I did see it then. It was in my words. I just didn't write between the lines hard enough for me to see them...

Until now.

Bonus.

Rambling About Rambling...Perhaps a New Low

During #reverb10, I discovered a blogger, Elizabeth Howard writing at Letters from a Small State, I like an awful lot.

I haven't been following her long as I only just discovered her toward the end of December but I've found myself nodding along with her more than once, resonating with her. I find her writing accessible and warm.

Perhaps it's because I respect her as a writer - someone who has been writing for quite awhile and has established herself as a credible voice among voices - that this entry got under my skin today.

Since I know I'd be too lazy to click through and read to what it is I am referring, I'll attempt to sum up: she wrote a blogging tip advising bloggers not to ramble. Specifically, she said this:

"A blog is a Mom and Pop corner store. Readers are the customers who usually know what they want when they come in, even if it isn’t necessarily a product: sometimes they want to come to get the experience of a wonderful, special place.
The customers expect a certain amount of chit-chat at the counter. But they also want to browse around, unfettered in the experience, and be engaged by unexpected treasures on the shelf.
And, of course, they want to leave with a bag full of what they were looking for.
So here’s a question that is easy to answer: What makes you turn around and walk out of a store almost every time?
For me, it’s one of those over-friendly, gabby, won’t-leave-me-alone salespeople that follows me wherever I go.
Rambling on and on about whatever matters to them, without regard for what I came here for."

Let's face it, Lovely Readers, sometimes? I ramble...and it's always about what matters to me.

Perhaps this got under my skin because I was already feeling a little sensitive to begin with since I'd stumbled across a number of well-written fellow #reverb10 blogs and bloggers who were mentioned and re-tweeted again and again...when I and mine weren't.

And this reminded me of something I'd long ago filed away under "Past Realizations That Truly Sucked".

I began playing the piano at the age of 4. When your mother, the lovely and talented Blind Betsy, is a concert pianist herself, it's what you do. Now, growing up in the least populated state in the Union, it's not difficult to be hot shnizzle at something - particularly when it's something very few people know how to do. So, for awhile, I thought I was some seriously hot shnizzle at the piano.

And then I was accepted to a summer-long, prestigious, intensive music camp (no, not like band camp...well, OK, sorta like band camp shuttup). There I discovered I was not, in fact, hot shnizzle. Surrounded by the best - prodigies from around the country - I realized I was nothing in particular.

I quit playing altogether - quit everything - shortly after returning home.

Realizing I was and would never be anyone in particular in music broke my heart. Only my family and perhaps just a very few people who were there then and are reading this now would understand just how much. The rest of you will just have to take my word for it.

Now, I've learned a few things since then. The most important is that it Does. Not. Matter. if I've got talent or not. If I am passionate about something and it fills me with joy to do it, then by gum! I'm going to do it with everything I've got!

And that's where you've found me...doing something I'm passionate about with everything I've got! *smile*

Still...

I have no idea why any of you come to this place to read what I've got to say. I mean, besides my mom (hi, Mom! Love you! Miss you!).

What's interesting and relevant, is that, prior to reading Elizabeth's suggestion, I'd raised the subject of why anyone reads my blog over sushi last night with BFF Matt, BFF-in-law @telecon (who, by the way, abhors pie and never wants to eat pie again to which I say, bite your tongue, Sir! I shall make you pie that'll have you weeping for joy), and the Divatologist.

They all assured me that they read because it is good. Maybe the content itself isn't anything in particular but the writing is good. I think that was the gist anyway. We got a little distracted by the vehicles for wasabi.

I don't suppose the reason really matters because, while I value their opinions and sincerely appreciate the support and the praise, I'm unlikely to quit any time soon - even if no one reads.

But I do wonder if perhaps this little space - my virtual living room you all are invited into and given cookies fresh from the oven whenever you'd like - is all I've got to offer.

And I do worry...is it even any good?

/ramble

I Write, Therefore I Am

Nobody will stop you from creating. Do it tonight. Do it tomorrow. That is the way to make your soul grow - whether there is a market for it or not! The kick of creation is the act of creating, not anything that happens afterward. I would tell all of you watching this screen: Before you go to bed, write a four line poem. Make it as good as you can. Don't show it to anybody. Put it where nobody will find it. And you will discover that you have your reward. --Kurt Vonnegut



I was a bit of an odd kid.

I didn't have many friends and I didn't want many friends. Friends wanted you to come out and play. And I? I didn't like their games. Introverted and sometimes shy, I had any number of stories taking shape inside my head and those were the "games" that interested me. Play was about acting out dramas with the people in my life - Fisher Price Little People, paper dolls, Barbie. Other people, real people, were much more unpredictable and would take my story lines to places I did not anticipate or desire.

When friends would occasionally come to my door and ask if I could come out to play, I'd tell my mom to tell them no, I couldn't. She indulged me in this and would continue to indulge me well into my teens (OK, 20's), assuming the role of "Mean Mom" so that I could lose myself within myself and my own creativity.

I have a solid memory, recalling minute details, from when I was 4. I'd been playing alone in my room - with Barbie and her Barbie-like pals in their Barbie Friend Ship Plane - when I was called to lunch.

Photo courtesy of Flying By the Seat of My Pants

Fully engrossed in the story I'd created and in the process of acting it out through my dolls, I was not particularly interested in lunch. But Betsy insisted and out to the kitchen I went. As I sat down, my sister, Rache, did something to me - I don't remember what, but I know it was mean - and I, not recognizing the smell of danger...yet, got angry and threatened, with glass in hand, to dump my milk over her head. Mom caught me and sent me back to my room...which is precisely where I wanted to be anyway. Win. Several hours later, she would come looking for me, having forgotten she'd sent me there, and would discover me still enacting the story I'd started much earlier in the day, talking to no one, interacting with no one, except myself.

So it should come as no surprise then that I began writing early. And I don't mean writing as in penmanship exercises (although I did those too...for fun). I mean writing stories for people to read. I believe I was 7 when I wrote my first story and illustrated it. I penned (well, OK, fat penciled) several of these tomes in my spare time. Not for homework, for fun. Betsy swears she has them still...we've just never been able to find them again. One, oddly enough, was about a cruise¹ ship.

My illustrative capacities were severely limited and didn't last past that first stage of fiction writing. As evidenced by my attempts to illustrate on this blog, my drawing talents have not evolved past the 2nd grade. However, my writing skills, those were just natural. Like with Dr. Jenni and her dancing or Rache with her crafting or Franny and his guitar and songwriting - just there to be honed...or forgotten.

I thought everyone could write. It didn't occur to me there were people out there who felt as though they couldn't do it or, worse, people who found it painfully difficult to do.

So, I wrote. I entered the Young Author's writing contest several times and throughout elementary and junior high school focused on fiction. In high school, I discovered the "joys" of poetry and wrote several free verse and what would later be considered slam poetry. I journaled from the age of 10 - most notably regarding my crush on Ricky Schroeder (shutup). I carried around a notebook, kept a notebook in my car, and even went so far as to write scraps of ideas on napkins, business cards, or paper towels.

And then I stopped.

I got involved with an abusive boy/man who, by the end of the relationship, had stripped me down to nothing. My self-esteem/confidence/worth was shattered and I no longer had a voice or had anything important to say. So I stopped talking.

It would take me nearly 10 years to start the process of re-discovering my voice and to start writing again. 10 ultimately stagnant, painful years trapped in a dead-end, long distance relationship where there were empty promises and no self-awareness. It was safe and I was hiding...from life...from myself.

I don't know what prompted me to begin again. Perhaps it was a necessity as it began through letter writing. First, to a boyfriend in Texas. Then to a couple of friends in prison.  Years, days, hours I spent writing for rapt audiences of one. Through those letters, I began finding my way again, working through some of my baggage, unpacking, discarding, repacking. Cathartic, it was, all that writing. And I found a voice there. A loud voice. An interesting voice. One filled with poignancy, laughter, sarcasm, and joy.

But it wasn't enough.

I wanted more than letters. I wanted...something. I didn't know what.

I began to blog.

At first, I didn't share my blog with anyone (it wasn't this one) except Dr. Jenni. Then, as I gained in confidence, I began friending blog people - some I knew, some I didn't. I started and maintained several other niche blogs on other sites. I wrote (and still do) sometimes a half dozen times or more a day.

And a couple of years ago, I took a deep breath and began to write stories again. Stories I've found quietly percolating since the early 90's in my head.

Barbie and Co. doesn't act them out anymore. Neither do the paper dolls. The characters rarely go on cruises and I try not to provide illustrations. But they are coming out now...sometimes so fast I can't type fast enough to capture all of them. Hopefully, one day, I'll be brave enough to share them with someone other than Vinny, the Best Cat Ever. But even if I don't ever show them, I will always write - as long as I am able -blog entries, letters, articles, poems, and stories.

I never realized I'd been holding my breath along with my voice.

Happy NaBloPoMo Month.



1: This was the late 70's and early 80's - at the height of The Love Boat's popularity.


A year ago: Whereupon Our Heroine Breaks All of Dr. Warren's Rules for Online Dating Safety
                  The Year the Grinch Stole Halloween