Readers either seem to relate to my really sappy posts about something thoughtful or they relate to my more brutally honest posts, of which this one will fit. Tonight, while catching up on The Following and Jane the Virgin, I found myself floating from one blog to the next. Some are my current favorites while some are blogs I used to follow on a regular basis. For the last few years I’ve noticed a growing trend that serious writers are criticizing bloggers as not being real writers because they don’t have any real impact on the world or that they don’t really have anything of value to say. I think this is quite interesting, as a blogger and author, because every industry PR exec from the fashion world to the tech world can tell you how profoundly bloggers affect the world, even directing the trends to the masses.
But those aren’t really the blogs I love to read. I love to read the small blogs where simple people just decided one day that out of a love for writing or a passion for fashion, they were going to put their stamp on the world; their personal voice. One of my current favorite blogs is Yummertime. Besides absolutely loving their name, every time I visit their blog I just feel so damn happy. Their writing is whimsical and they do all of their own photoshoots of themselves wearing the clothes they write about in the blog. And they’re an adorable couple. I mean, how fucking cute is that??? I love it. I don’t consider them to be George Eliot or Ayn Rand but their words and their pictures do profoundly affect me. They make me yearn for a yummertime feeling…and I kinda like that!
But Yummertime isn’t one these small blogs. It has grown considerably since it started because it has stayed true to it’s passion. I’m talking about the blogs that get 4, 10 maybe even 15 views a day. They write about their washing machine breaking or calling in sick to work and watching 10 straight hours of The Walking Dead on Netflix while eating Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough ice cream. Those are the blogs I love to read and follow.
There was one blog in particular that had this sense of tone which I read on a regular basis. Tonight, for some reason, I realized I hadn’t visited that particular blog in a really long time so I went there, only to find that he hadn’t written in almost exactly a year.
The mystery unfolded as I dug deeper and read the post, which I faintly remembered having read a year ago. It talked about how he had stopped writing as often and questioned the purpose of blogging altogether, feeling as if he wasn’t really contributing anything of purpose.
I sat there and stared at this blog for a long time, kind of smirking to myself. I had read his blog for quite some time and loved his pieces, no matter how trivial they were. In fact, sometimes I loved the more trivial pieces even better! (Didn’t Jenny Lawson “The Bloggess” create an entire blog empire and write several bestselling books based on sometimes trivial thoughts???)
The writing hadn’t changed; the writer had changed. He had given up, or given in, sold out or sold up, and now, blogging wasn’t important anymore. It was trivial, when what he didn’t realize was that the writing he did on that blog was the most beautiful of all because it was unedited and raw. It didn’t have a purpose. Sometimes that’s the best kind of writing; any real writer will tell you that.
Well let me tell you what I think: I’m bored to tears with bloggers who think they are too fucking good to blog anymore because their writing took them somewhere. A blog is simply that…a blog. It just ain’t that deep!
So back to this raw and honest post. I love to write. I feel blessed whenever I have a chance to write something that someone chooses to read. I feel blessed to call myself an author and a blogger. My parents raised me to chase my dreams and fill my soul and my heart with those things that bleed passion. They did not raise me to take for granted any chance that I might have to write something funny, moving, spiritual, inappropriate, classy, sophisticated, political or trivial. They just encouraged me to write because they knew that’s what I loved.
Not all of us will win Oscars or sing on Broadway. Not all of us will write bestsellers or win a Gold in the Olympics. Not all of us will have children or get married. But some of us will. Some of us will do all of these things and many more. But some of us, the truly lucky ones, will be content to live in the simpler details in life. And that is what I love most about the smallest of the smallest blogs who feel they have no readers, because to them it doesn’t matter anyway; they just love to write.
Ahhhh…isn’t that refreshing. People writing simply for the love of writing. Beautiful.
And to my blogger friend: Please come back to our world. Your writing is beautiful and hilarious and freeing. I miss it dearly.