Why Blog? Then and Now.

           Writing in my head during a 2009 bike ride.

The following is the second blog post I ever published. It was July 14, 2009, and four people read it! 
My first post a couple weeks earlier drew zero attention, and revisiting it, I see why. DELETE!  But this post is still relevant because every bit of the angst and obsession I described then is still true! My present day thoughts are in italics. I wonder if I've learned anything.

Why Blog? July 2009

I wrestle with this question. I think about it while riding my bike, chopping onions for marina sauce, and doing downward facing dog in yoga class. I think about it while wrestling weeds from the garden, buying wine at Grocery Outlet, and mowing what passes for grass in our so-called lawn. I think about it while doing these things because they are all on my ever-growing subjects-for-writing list. In fact, I think about writing multiple times every single day, so the fact that I rarely DO it weighs upon me. All still true.

Not that I haven't tried. I called my first blog attempt New Ventures, and the next one Part 3. These attempts were nearly three years ago, (now nearly 10 years)  but I was paralyzed with doubt and performance anxiety. Who gives a crap what I think? I'm not the snappy tweeter or the quipping commentator or among the swarming and excited political people. Some things never change

But I've been writing since age seven, and for most of my adult life, I wrote for pay. About 25 years ago, I left journalism and a weekly personal column, to start a writing and editing business, which has been nifty and even renumerative. I wrote business profiles, annual reports, magazine articles, company newsletters, executive speeches, clever ad copy and more. Except for a few columns for the local public radio station, I didn't write anything personal for publication. In the meantime, I've kept a private journal accompanied by photos that's bloating my hard drive. Now I journal only while traveling, mostly as notes for blog posts.

All this begs the question: Does writing require an audience? Obviously not, since most journal-keepers write privately with no desire for readers. But blogging? That's another story.

That's the question about blogging and what's been hanging me up. There are millions of writers and bloggers, all vying for attention and wanting and waiting to be loved! Who cares if there's another one putting herself out there? And what is it with this need to communicate?

But I've decided that it doesn't matter. Blogging isn't just about the reader. It's about the writer. It's about me. I've been writing since childhood and I'm not going to stop. I can't stop. For some unfathomable reason, it's what I have to do. If I connect with somebody, that's great. Hello, out there! I shake your hand and pat you on the hind, man or woman. If no connection occurs, oh well! Compulsive writing, whether in my head or on the page, is my curse or blessing. Anyway, I just freaking have to do it. And so I am.

December 2015
And so I still do, 246 published posts later, PLUS 112 in draft. 
My first year of blogging, readership rarely broke into double digits. Yes, it was discouraging to have four or five "regular readers", mostly family!  Now most posts break three digits, and some have climbed past four.  These are ones that recirculate, finding new readers year after year. Beloved Birkenstocks Bite the Dust, for example, has a life of its own, as do a few others. 

As you can see, I have not gone viral in any sense of the word. Still, I no longer fear, when I post something, that no one will read it.  Over the years, I've learned that I do care about having readers and feeling that a connection has been made. Comments are a bonus, even though the majority occur on Facebook, where I usually create a link to my blog.
If you're a regular reader, thank you from the very bottom of my trembling little heart. It means a lot that you've stuck with me.