I lack the blogging gene (but am quite skilled at mixing several metaphors at a time.)
I lie in bed contemplating this blog, running my tongue over its fuzzy teeth. I can’t remember the last time I flossed it, let alone brushed — and damn, if it couldn’t use a good rinsing out. And, yet, I lie here still, trying to avoid its sour breath.
I’m not an idiot. I know what things I could share that would make them read, that would make them gasp, that would guarantee they tuned in and shared and Stumbled all over each other. A better blogger wouldn’t wait more than a week between posts, and then put one up on a Saturday morning of a holiday weekend. A better blogger would have told you all about the events of this week, and while we’re at it the crap that went down the week before it, and the week before that one. Who among us does not have trainwreck-worthy shit to share? Which of you can admit there are plenty of blogs you read not because you admire their stunning prose, but because you simply can’t look away? I could do that, I could be that, too, I know how, but I won’t. I never will. I’m not one to make fun of strangers, so I’ll never share those laugh-out-loud slices of life. I’m not one to exploit the trust of my friends and I guard my children’s feelings with my very body, so I’ll never share my most tender interactions or crippling parenting challenges. I’m not one to toot my own kazoo, and so I’ll never tell you about the accomplishments that make me shake with gratitude and wonder. I’m not one to brag, and so I won’t even post a vacation photo. Every single thing that packs the biggest punch in my life, for better or for worse, will never see the light of this monitor. What’s left that wouldn’t more appropriately grace a diary?
I still want to be here. I know it isn’t fair, but I still want the option of reaching out through my screen when I need you, even though it’s been months since I properly reciprocated. I keep coming back here because it’s like passing by a mirror, making sure it still reflects me back, leaning in close every once in a while to fog it up with my breath, make sure I’m alive. To know that someone is taking stock, marking time, deeming me relevant. There are plenty of people in my life to do this for me, but the need to do it on a blog is something only you out there could possibly understand.
My other writing life is so lonely. For months, maybe even years, you spit it onto the page and there is no feedback, no guage, no end in sight but for a deadline looming as ominous as it sounds. Blogging, on the other hand, is the modern writer’s bourbon in the bottom drawer and I’ll be damned if I’m ever gonna dump it out.
Mad says:
I think a lot of us have settled into this kid of blogging. My 1st year in the sphere was heady: intoxicating new friendships and that desperate need to come to terms with all the challenges of new motherhood.
Now it’s different. The people out here are still important, but it’s cool to simply touch base now and then–in the way I do with dear old friends. The desperate need to document my day has also died down and I really don’t need the feedback in the way I once did.
So ya, blogging is still great–important, but it’s just a little piece of it all.
May 23rd, 2009 at 5:57 am
Kat says:
“Every single thing that packs the biggest punch in my life, for better or for worse, will never see the light of this monitor. What’s left that wouldn’t more appropriately grace a diary?”
That sums it up for me, too. I just won’t post a lot of things, though I *could*, I just won’t.
May 23rd, 2009 at 6:12 am
father muskrat says:
I just find that I’m busier than I was a year ago. Yeah. That’s my excuse.
May 23rd, 2009 at 6:28 am
Xbox4NappyRash says:
I’m at the point where I don’t know if I’m really blogging anymore.
I’m telling a story, one story, the other branches that fly in my face – I keep them away. Not my stories to tell, and I’ve no right to worry friends or family that I might mock them.
If that results in people not reading then so be it. I’m telling a story, listen or go away.
Nice one Maggie.
May 23rd, 2009 at 6:36 am
Christy says:
This space is here for you to share what you choose to put forth….it doesn’t require any more than that from you (and obviously, we keep coming back because what you say has meaning to us.)
It’s hard for me to judge sometimes what is okay to share because I tend to over share in real life–with people I’m comfortable with, anyway. And when you’re here in the comfort of your own computer screen, you can feel pretty comfortable.
The connections I’ve made with other people through blogging have really been the best part of it all. I take comfort in knowing that there are other people out there that understand how I’m feeling on any given day; they’ve gone through the same things, or they find the same things funny. There are certain writers whose words just really speak to me and it’s almost like having a conversation. It’s not that I can’t get this with my real life friends…I guess it’s just a different piece of myself.
May 23rd, 2009 at 6:41 am
Nicole says:
That’s one of the beauties of a blog: You can post as little or as much as you deem appropriate. And there are just some things you can’t or don’t want to blog about.
Love that bourbon in the bottom drawer analogy. Always nice to know it’s tucked away there.
May 23rd, 2009 at 7:26 am
Kaza says:
So glad that @iamdebra tweeted this post. Loved it. –From a fellow “bourbon sipper” (often gulper) who is still trying to figure out what my blog is really all about, what I’m willing to share, whether I should care if anyone reads or not, and why I can’t seem to let it go.
May 23rd, 2009 at 7:32 am
miguelina says:
This is absolutely perfect. I have a hard time explaining why I blog, and like you, I prefer to tell my stories, in my own time.
I know what brings traffic. I don’t want to do it. I don’t even like reading it. That makes me boring in blogland, but my life? It’s anything but. That’s worth more than a dumb Stumble, methinks.
May 23rd, 2009 at 7:39 am
Robin says:
Hey, Maggie, thanks for writing what was in my head the last couple of days. I really appreciate it.
Have you seen that toy that is sometimes in doctor’s offices these days? It’s like a big tube, filled with little pieces of multi-colored gravel-like stuff, kind of like aquarium gravel (but different), and mixed into the gravel are tons of tiny toys, figurines, objects? The task is to see if you can find the whole list of things by moving it around, shaking it up, uncovering things, watching carefully, patience.
Yup.
That pretty much sums it up for me.
May 23rd, 2009 at 7:54 am
won says:
Well heck,
thanks for sharing the bourbon this morning.
That counts for something, you know?
May 23rd, 2009 at 8:10 am
merlotmom says:
I swear I was tossing around this very same post (though in less eloquent form) in my head before I got up this morning. Thanks for saving me the trouble!
May 23rd, 2009 at 8:16 am
furiousball says:
I’ve found the most freeing notion in terms of my own blog is just not to worry about defining what it is, what I’m supposed to write about. My blog is just a journal of my dick and fart jokes, once in a while I say something sweet, but mostly it’s dick and fart jokes. Which are sweet.
May 23rd, 2009 at 8:29 am
Heather says:
Sigh, Maggie you are doing what is right for you and it is a wise decision.
I (obviously) don’t do that with my blog, but, I also don’t want more readers that the 15 or so that can stand me. Better, the honest emotional bile that sometimes forces its way through me.
It has cost me though. I respect your decision and I know that I should follow suit, but, my slow descent into a life I never meant (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P24NW3o38u0) has been softer this way.
May 23rd, 2009 at 8:50 am
Vicky says:
I come back to you, dear Maggie, because your words resonate with me, and stay with me, long after I’ve clicked away. I simply consider it a gift when you pop up near the top of my reader. I simply feel lucky to get to come along and swig a little bourbon with you.
May 23rd, 2009 at 8:53 am
WhyMommy says:
Sounds like you know exactly where you’re going and why you blog.
Good to see you here, as always.
May 23rd, 2009 at 9:18 am
Kate says:
I agree with Merlotmom. You said it before I could and with far more eloquence.
May 23rd, 2009 at 9:33 am
racheld says:
I’ve always envied those people in movie scenes whose despair or desperation or dumping or need-a-good-cry leads them to grasp a bottle by its neck, take a hearty swig, and pour out their sorrows in a cathartic equalize as the booze flows in.
Just sitting there for hours, sucking down the anodyne, letting the tears and the bad flow out and away. And if a friend is there, to pass the bottle in a sort of boozy communion of souls, all the better.
Can’t do it; never have.
But you’ve portrayed couple of those occasions in your words, and the memory of those razor sentences and those cut-to-the-quick emotions—those have lingered in my memory, in my own emotional cachepile, since I read them.
You’re like a wordcraft Morgan Freeman—you could write about the phonebook, and I’d read and deem it relevant and worthy.
The words are all, and yours resound.
May 23rd, 2009 at 9:50 am
Mr Lady says:
What’s not fair about it? I don’t recall you signing some sort of contract with us to post X times a week and make us laugh Y times and cry Z times, do you?
It’s a personal blog, dude. YOUR personal blog. Use it as you will. We’ll all be around when you are.
May 23rd, 2009 at 10:18 am
Yo says:
i hear ya, sistah-friend.
since i changed my blog address, traffic has been slow. and i kinda like it. like it’s just me. and i started thinking about posts wanted to write, memories, dreams i wanted to get down, things i wanted to read of my own.
i wish you would post more often, because your words are so perfect and cut to the core so softly and perfectly.
bourbon in the bottom drawer. that’s great.
haha, furiousball… dick and fart jokes.
we’ll be here when you write, every time.
May 23rd, 2009 at 10:58 am
Gwen Jackson says:
I can completely understand your point of view here, especially the part about needing to blog as sort of a reflection of yourself, and also feeling relevant and alive. I don’t think you need to write about those very private or embarrassing or crippling moments to have something interesting to say. I read your blog and I always enjoy it. You are a talented writer with an interesting perspective. I will keep reading no matter how infrequently you post. Every blogger is different. Some overshare and it’s fascinating, but it’s not necessary to qualify you as a good blogger. Just keep doing your thing, what makes you feel comfortable.
May 23rd, 2009 at 11:15 am
perksofbeingme says:
I agree with Mr. Lady. You can post whenever you want. However often (or not) that you want. The ones that truly care about you will be here for you always. Whether you post every day or twice a year. We’re here when you need us. Always.
May 23rd, 2009 at 11:56 am
Ann's Rants says:
I appreciate your limits, and relate to them as others do. As I delve into submitting, I feel a pang of that writing loneliness you describe.
May 23rd, 2009 at 12:36 pm
Fran says:
I’m hooked on you and have been since the first time I hit your site. It doesn’t matter how often, how deep/not deep, how passionate, humorous, conflicted…I love reading whatever you choose to share.
May 23rd, 2009 at 12:40 pm
flutter says:
for some reason, this felt so defensive to me. I am probably putting my own shit on it, so you don’t need to pay attention to me..:p
love you
May 23rd, 2009 at 1:15 pm
Frogdancer says:
Hey, it’s your blog. It can be whatever you like.
Keep slugging that bourban, girl!
May 23rd, 2009 at 1:56 pm
Sunny says:
I feel the same way about my blog. Every day something happens that I mean to write about, but I get so caught up in life that the moment passes by, and by the time I do have time to sit down and blog about it, I’ve completely forgotten what I was going to say!
I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’ll read your blog whether you post twice a day or twice a month. I enjoy what’s in your head and heart, but don’t feel pressured to perform to a standard that isn’t really there.
*hugs*
Besides, there’s always twitter
May 23rd, 2009 at 2:00 pm
Mojo says:
And you know what else? Every time you bob to the top of my blogroll I’m gonna be here to see what wondrous wordsmithery awaits on these pages. Whether it’s been 8 hours, 8 days or 8 weeks or (are you getting a word picture here?).
I came her originally because you made me laugh. I mean really laugh. I came back — and I keep coming back — because you’re just too cool not to hang out with. Even if it’s only virtually.
Besides… somebody’s gotta toot your kazoo for ya. ;D
May 23rd, 2009 at 2:07 pm
pgoodness says:
so many good comments – love the “wordcraft Morgan Freeman” – I would also totally read your thoughts about the phone book. hehe. MrLady hit the nail on the head, as usual (I think she lives in my head and always comments before me!)
May 23rd, 2009 at 2:11 pm
Joh says:
Yeah, but you wrote it really well. What you do share is expressed with such clarity that I’m happy to read whatever you’ve got to share. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to clumsily say what you’ve described so well!
May 23rd, 2009 at 3:33 pm
Emily R says:
well, i’m here when you’re in the mood.
my husband says that a lot…
May 23rd, 2009 at 3:42 pm
Kate Coveny Hood says:
I’ve never been a fan of chronicling every minute of the day (mine aren’t interesting enough). So writing about whatever comes to mind is fine. And you’ve pretty much built up a community of friends and “fans” at this point, so you don’t have to worry about frequent posting and commenting.
It’s like Cheers right? Your blog is an easy place to stop in for drink and feel like you’re part of something. But do eventually have to go home to IRL…
May 23rd, 2009 at 3:56 pm
sweetsalty kate says:
Better bloggers bore me.
(winking). xo
May 23rd, 2009 at 4:49 pm
A Free Man says:
The modern writer’s bourbon in the bottom drawer…
That explains a lot.
May 23rd, 2009 at 7:20 pm
beth says:
keep doing what you’re doing…how you want to do it …and why you want to do it…..we’re here when you are !
and the bourbon, totally…but make mine a margarita and I’m even more inclined to NEVER dump it !
May 23rd, 2009 at 7:39 pm
Alison Veres says:
Hi Maggie —
It’s been awhile, but like someone said, when your name appears on the top of my blog list, I always come by. And I’m always glad I did. I do like your style. And I’m also impressed that you write more that just a blog. For me, it’s just the blog. And sometimes… letters to my mom. Which, for now, is totally enough.
May 23rd, 2009 at 7:54 pm
Maria says:
“I’m not one to exploit the trust of my friends and I guard my children’s feelings with my very body, so I’ll never share my most tender interactions or crippling parenting challenges.”
For some reason my first reaction to this was “ow!”, but I get what you’re saying.
May 23rd, 2009 at 8:01 pm
Pamela says:
Here’s the thing: I love bourbon. And I also love you. And just as a clever person would never dump the bourbon, I have no intention of dumping you. It’s a treat to read your writing. I can drink bourbon every day in between.
May 23rd, 2009 at 8:37 pm
Lady Fi says:
Well said!
And anyway – whoever said that you had to write every day or week for that matter?
May 24th, 2009 at 1:00 am
David Levine says:
As many of the other commentors (commentators?) have written, I am also glad that you continue here. This present post being a shining example of your eloquence, which needs no sensational revelation to keep my close attention to the final sentence. The quality of your prose and the volume of commentary attest to that.
This phenomenon and the blogosphere of online acquaintances it generates is just another form of good old human friendship. Who knew that the internet would become such a portal? Like a huge party on the world’s biggest lawn, we can wander around and chat briefly with all kinds of folks. Here’s another image that works. It’s a beautiful thing and needs no regulated frequency.
Thanks for still wanting to be here. We’ll be right here too, just on the other side of the screen.
May 24th, 2009 at 6:22 am
Woman in a window says:
It feeds, it does. I’m not sure a paycheck would feed me quite so well. (Although then I would be able to go to a store and buy real food, thankyouverymuch!)
I like yer fuzzy teeth.
May 24th, 2009 at 9:53 am
Pseudo says:
I stopped writing for many years. Between teaching and raising a family, writing in isolation only to be rejected by publishers and agents seemed like a poor use of valuable time.
But the blog. Ah. I love the feeling of being read. Even if it is only by a few and only for love.
May 24th, 2009 at 9:58 am
fancy feet says:
I think every other day I want to give it up. I find it hard to see myself through the screen. I always want to yell things like, I’m not always like this. I’m not always this serious. I’m light…I swear!
I just posted a little blurb yesterday that said this space…this blog…is where my steady stream of thoughts find a resting place. If I look at it that way – that it’s just a part of me – not all of me, then, I’m good.
I’m glad you’re around, Maggie. I so enjoy your gifted, gifted writing.
May 24th, 2009 at 11:15 am
Jennifer H says:
I’d rather tune in for good writing over “better blogging.” Not saying they’re mutually exclusive, but they don’t naturally intersect, either.
Sometimes I’m good at engaging, but not always. And so far, that seems to be working out just fine.
Love the bourbon in the drawer. Perfect.
May 24th, 2009 at 4:33 pm
Laurie | Your Ill-fitting Overcoat says:
This is 100% exactly how I feel. Thanks for putting it into words.
May 24th, 2009 at 8:12 pm
mamatulip says:
God, do I get this post.
May 26th, 2009 at 1:35 pm
Gypsy says:
I’ve cut back to one or two posts a week just because I don’t have more in me right now, and Twitter picks up some slack.
It’s your blog, Magpie. We’re just along for the ride, and I suspect whatever choices you make about posting or not posting, we’ll still keep riding. I know I will.
May 26th, 2009 at 3:39 pm
ali says:
whatever you are writing, friend, I am reading.
if people stop reading because you aren’t posting enough, or revealing enough…it’s their loss.
May 26th, 2009 at 3:55 pm
Deb on the Rocks says:
A better blogger WHO? WHERE? Nope, no better bloggers are out there, baby.
May 27th, 2009 at 1:39 pm
Postmarc says:
“I know it isn’t fair, but I still want the option of reaching out through my screen when I need you, even though it’s been months since I properly reciprocated.”
Hold yer horses, missy. Reciprocation? Hell, every one of us who comment are just making a down payment on what we owe you.
May 27th, 2009 at 7:47 pm
Robin says:
Girl – I know you’d never dump that bourbon out and it’s not in the bottom drawer!
Even I, just starting out, with very little readers, feel that Blogging guilt. Thanks for articulating it.
R
May 28th, 2009 at 2:26 pm
arizaphale says:
Yea, you’re right, you DO lack the blogging gene ;-D
May 29th, 2009 at 5:46 pm
bejewell says:
Well, hell. I do or have done pretty much everything on that list of things you’re not one to do. Do I feel like the asshole now, or what?!?
May 29th, 2009 at 6:17 pm
Kay says:
I guess I’m not the only one that keeps coming back to read, to see how you’re doing, to take whatever it is that you’re willing to give. Whether it’s hours or days between posts – we (or at least I) read because… well, I’ve grown attached to this blog. And as long as you’re stopping by now and then, I’ll keep reading.
You have to do/write what is right for YOU. That’s what blogging is about – us readers are just along for the ride.
May 29th, 2009 at 6:28 pm
Aubrey says:
hey sweetie it’s alongwayhome….
I hope you are doing well.
It seems to be a time of really big seismic adjustments way down deep in your psyche, and I just want to send you my love and concern. Not that I’m worried. Maybe that’s the wrong word. eh. I’m sure you understand.
I have a ton of news, and may send you an email. My blog is like my journals – one page, and the rest blank. Putting thoughts down next to pages that are already full itches, maybe it’s the PTSD.
Only so much at a time.
But my best wishes are with you, and thanks for your check-in and your note.
Sincerely,
me
June 1st, 2009 at 6:01 pm
The problem with faith is like the problem with doubt | A Free Man says:
[...] who I love, described blogging as “the modern writer’s bourbon in the bottom drawer”. That thought has been stuck in my head for the last couple of weeks. I’m not sure what the line [...]
June 18th, 2009 at 5:12 am