Okay, Fine, Dammit » Evolution of a Blogger

Evolution of a Blogger

September 4th, 2009

Every writer’s voice squeaks shut in the stranglehold of the inner critic. We all know this. Countless courses espouse free writing, the act of scribbling with abandon until your hand cramps, ignoring all attempts by your brain to go back, to edit, erase, rearrange, expound. You just write, and sure there’s a lot of chaff, but those few slender strands of golden wheat glitter so sweetly in the sun.

I used to do that here, just free write and surprise myself sometimes with the rare bits of insight. I can’t do that anymore. I can’t present here a “product” that is not slickly packaged, with a beginning, middle, and end. With a point. My inner critic won’t let me.

It didn’t start out that way. We bloggers burst forth blindly from the blogspot.com gates and start panting around the track, uncertain where we’re going and utterly unaware of ourselves. We spend hours fiddling with our templates, trying out new looks and fonts, cluttering up our sidebars with unforgivable amounts of flair and music ala MySpace. We give our URLs to our mothers.

We fill up our feed readers with blog after blog after blog; those that inspire us, those that are popular and we hope will raise us up with them, those by people that comment on our own blogs, those that are trainwrecks, those we secretly despise. We write a post about other bloggers and we link to them and when they show up to comment we cannot figure out how they found us because we do not yet get that incoming links show up in other people’s stats, and OMG The Bloggess totally reads my blog! We comment diligently around the blogosphere and we can’t miss a single post or we will lose our tenuous connections, we will miss something huge in someone else’s life, we will mess up the reciprocation and those people won’t be back and the sky will explode into little blue pieces. We obsess over our stats, match IP addresses to commenters, analyze and predict and begin a subtle slide into writing for audience. This is about the time we move to wordpress.com. Maybe buy a custom header.

We slap our URLs into countless search engines, ning groups, forums, review sites. We fawn over blog awards, and keep ourselves up late nights figuring out how to distribute them. We spend hours, literally hours, thinking about our blogs, talking about our blogs, strategizing over our blogs. Inevitably, we get sucked into drama. We weigh in passionately on breast versus bottle feeding, on work-from-home moms versus work-outside-the-home ones, on selling out and advertising and SEO and TMI. We write private things about our loved ones and we suffer tremendous real-life fallout and we can’t, for the life of us, figure out why. We scour Cafepress for t-shirts and mugs with pithy sayings about the act of blogging, and then consider having our own made. We judge ourselves by our traffic, by our comment numbers. Our self-esteems rise and fall on stats. We try desperately to get the attention of those we admire. We notice when readers who used to comment regularly no longer do, and we obsess over why they suddenly hate us, what we did, what we could write to bring them back to us. We wail and gnash in private, work up the guts to send beseeching emails, dramatically unfollow on Twitter, look really stupid, be reassured, have our feathers smoothed back down, kiss our screens, make up, move on. A year later we get these same emails from others wondering why we don’t love them anymore.

We reel from the blows of bully stick wielding trolls. We defend our friends en masse. We cower in fear. It all becomes too much for us. We write the predictable post about quitting, about shutting down the blog, and we do. Then we come back.

We buy our own domains. We pay designers. We get serious about advertising. We get serious about ourselves. We make a few enemies. More so, we make friends. Some really, really good friends. We start to cultivate a real community, we witness its power in action, and our belief in the validity of blogging is deeply solidified.

We learn. We grow. We change. We start writing condescending posts like this one, secure in our places, certain about the way our bloggy backyard should behave. But a couple of years go by and we feel our bloggy veins hardening, our bones growing brittle, our blood pressure rising. We can’t keep up with the young folks anymore. We can’t keep up to speed on everyone else’s lives, can’t clear our feed readers, can’t find time to comment, and we wonder why it was so much easier before. We watch others move out, move on up, purchase their own domain homes, leave the nest, excited about bright futures and big, pixelated dreams. We are courted for coffee dates, sent sweet love letters praising our blog genius, asked constantly for advice and rendered speechless by the request more often than not. We don’t know what we think about blogging anymore. It changes by the day.

We look around our own comment sections and we only recognize half the names there, maybe a quarter, and we wonder if we have been good citizens to these readers, or if they see us as unapproachable, cold, think we’ll never reciprocate. We look for our familiar friends but many of them have shuttered their blogs. We stick our heads back in and poke around the blogosphere to find it is not as we left it, that it has gone on quite happily without us, and that the same arguments are being passionately rehashed by fresh voices. That there are no new ideas. And we wonder if we will ever have anything to publicly say again. Because it feels like there should be a point. Not just a beginning, middle, and end to a post, but a point. That voice in your head screams, What’s the point?! If you don’t have a point, why would anyone bother to read you when there are so many others out there? And so you don’t post for a week, maybe two, the words slipping silently from the room to avoid your ire. Finally, you have something to say and you come to these keys and you sit down.

And then you wonder if this exact post has been written before.

I’m tired and it is September. These are days of stock taking, of cobweb clearing, of harvesting and downward hunkering. I’ve been gone a lot, away from my anchor, and I’ve felt the need to quantify it: I have been away from home 34 of the last 52 days. I have scribbled in that aforementioned journal and I have practiced my free writing but more than that I have listed things, weighed things, sifted and separated my soul’s contents for the scale. I have come back to myself and sat quietly inside and I am still there, still doing that. I am being gentle with myself, and writing without a point, in the only place I feel I can.

The most common phrase doled out in the blogosphere is “Write for you.” The thing is, it isn’t quite true. Yes, we should write for ourselves, but blogging? Blogging is for public consumption. Blogging is a product, for better or for worse, however sincere or packaged, review-driven or craft-conscious yours may be. “Blog for you” is a fallacy. You are out here to be read.

I’ve said it a hundred times myself, this “Write for you,” typed it casually and confidently into tiny neat square comment boxes. I’ve said it and I believed it. I believed it so strongly that I have faith I still do, that it’s in me somewhere and if I am patient enough it will reemerge when it’s ready. That this feeling is nothing new, just like nothing else out there is new under this white hot sun, that this is all part of the evolution of blogging and I will wake up from this shade feeling rested soon and walk on.

Until then.

260 Comments

Screwed Up Texan says:

As always, well said. I blog for my readers because they are what keeps me going. I do my best to be myself in the process.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:24 am
I think, like anything, balance is key. I’ve just never been very good at balance.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:06 am
Screwed Up Texan says:

And yes, I will sell my soul for an ice cream maker.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:07 am
Jennifer says:

“We slap our URLs into countless search engines, ning groups, forums, review sites. We fawn over blog awards, and keep ourselves up late nights figuring out how to distribute them. We spend hours, literally hours, thinking about our blogs, talking about our blogs, strategizing over our blogs.”

This is not a criticism or an “I’m so above it,” but my reality is that I never did any of that. And have the readership to show for it. But then again, I still have my blog as journal and no-drama mama status to show for it, too.

There’s no particular reason I never bought into the self-promotion, beyond the fact that mostly I just don’t have the balls for it. I guess, sometimes, a lack of confidence can be a good thing?

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:17 am
I did it in the beginning because I thought it’s what you were supposed to do. Because I am used to doing things all the way or not at all. I stopped a few months in, and I’d like to say none of it mattered and you don’t have to do it, but I guess I have no real way of knowing if it had an impact?

September 4th, 2009 at 8:11 am
Gypsy says:

This “write for you” thing? I think that holds real merit in the creative process, in the starting of things, in getting it down. But, ultimately, you’re right: it’s for an audience. There’s a packaging process involved.

I used to blog every week day. And it flowed so easily. But over three years have gone by and I’m not sure I have it in me anymore. I’ve been thinking it’s time for something new.

Anyway. Miss you. Glad you tweet.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:18 am
I don’t know if I said it well up there, but I agree “write for you” has merit. I just think it pertains more to writing than blogging. I’m still not making sense.

I’ve always admired your ability to blog frequently even after all these years. Oh, and that fact that you’ve stuck with me from the start.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:11 am
Jennifer says:

By “have the readership to show for it” I mean, I have very few. Felt the need to clarify!!

September 4th, 2009 at 8:12 am
Chicken Liver says:

Despite the image that I sometimes portray that I’m a witch at a cauldron tossing in limbs of mommybloggers, I think there is definitely some good in the blogosphere. There’s some crap, and high school antics too, but there is good.

I do feel that something is afoot in blogging and there’s going to be some changes soon. Maybe it’s the advertisers money, the clawing to the top to be a celebrity, I don’t know but it’s changing, and I don’t know if it’s for the good yet.

I think people can tell themselves till the cows come home, “write for yourself” but this whole blogging for other’s to see is just that–for others. You have to always keep in mind how your words, pictures, etc will be perceived. I think a truer statement would be; “write for everyone, but ourselves too.”

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:20 am
There’s definitely change afoot, which is why me writing a post like this is sort of odd because it probably won’t apply in a few years, and may not have a few years ago. I guess that’s why I chose the word evolution. At least, I hope it’s a moving forward not back.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:13 am
Mad says:

I love you.

And I really wish I knew you and your writing back when we were both in those heady days of blog infactuation. Instead, I’ll just give a sideways wave as the sun sets.

Oh and when I say “I love you,” I mean that in a totally superficially bloggy way that means I think you’re smart and I would like to hang out with you some day maybe if it could ever happen. But you knew that, already.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:22 am
HA. Yes.

I do remember you from back in those days, remember leaving a comment on one of your posts. Isn’t that funny?

I love you, too. And I sincerely hope our suns aren’t setting.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:17 am
Deb on the Rocks says:

The odd, swirling little Whoville of blogging doesn’t have a center that holds well under scrutiny because it never stops. Most of the time I like that, but when I get dizzy or numb I just have to back off for a while. It’s like a spinning playground merry-go-round, you have to jog a bit to jump back on.

Though those spinners have been banned, haven’t they, because of too many broken bones. Kids are such hothouse flowers these days.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:26 am
There’s still one of those spinners in my little town of 952 people. Next to the ball diamond with the 35 cent pop machine.

Whoville is kind of perfect, do you know that? I want you to invent Deb glasses that I can put on sometimes to see things the way you do. Please.

Laurie Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 7:50 pm
Oh so, so do I. Let’s all get together and combine lenses.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:17 am
Kat says:

I don’t have much to say but I want to comment. You are the first person who ever commented on my blog, my little mostly unknown blog. You have no idea how that thrilled me…that someone would comment on something I wrote. I love your blog and I would miss you so, so much if you were gone.

Blogging is hard. I’m trying to blog once a week now, there just isn’t enough time to blog daily and my life is not that interesting to blog all the time. But I find new blogs all the time and I absolutely love the blogosphere, the fact that people do it and I find new ones all the time. The fact that we connect with each other through our words, because we DO. That’s my favorite part. And I get a little thrill when I find that someone finds my blog interesting enough to read, and maybe comment on.

But more than anything it’s the people I come to know through their words, and I’m very glad to have gotten to know you in this virtual medium.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:29 am
I’m very glad I’ve gotten to know you, too. I have spent a lot of time feeling exactly the same way about the blogosphere, and I’m hoping to feel that way again soon. I think with enough time and space it will work itself out, but we all worry that if we take too much time and space the world will forget about us. You know?

September 4th, 2009 at 8:21 am
Nicole says:

I write for me. I blog for me. Selfish bitch, huh? (Though admittedly I’d be disappointed if others didn’t read it. I’m astounded most days to find that people actually DO.) I try to keep a schedule. Emphasis on try. It’s not a job after all. I don’t HAVE to show up. I can stay as long as I want or even not come in for a day or two. The day it starts feeling like a job, the blog is done.

I read and comment not just for me, but for others.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:38 am
Not selfish. Admirable.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:33 am
Neil says:

I write for myself, but if I were completely writing for myself, I wouldn’t blog in public, so clearly some sort of “readership” is important to me. What fun is it to hear your own voice?

As you wrote in your post, blogging was most fun in the early days, when we were naive and didn’t have a clue about what we were doing. What was best, though, was that most of us only knew about twenty other bloggers, so it was an intimate experience, almost like a private writing group.

Now, with the advent of Twitter and Facebook and just time passing, we all know 1000 people. It is overwhelming. It makes us feel guilty that we can’t keep up. The marketplace feels competitive and we want to keep up in quality and readership, although it becomes an impossible task, especially if you have to work a job. Some have more time to polish each post. Others network more. Others form blog magazines, where a staff of writers can produce a higher standard of storytelling.

The only way I can keep my focus is to delude myself. I hate feeling judged by others, so I pick a small group of bloggers, ones who I feel have a sensibility I admire, but who I also feel will not judge me if I go somewhere new, and I write most of my posts for them. These bloggers are not aware of this because then it would ruin the delusion. This enables me to keep myself comfortable and safe in the crowd.

Yesterday, on Twitter, you were making some noises about maybe leaving blogging. While that would make me terribly sad to me, because I love your writing, it scares me MORE for a personal, selfish reason. I write my blog posts for you. You are one of those I think about as a reader. Do you read each post? I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter that much. But I have never need 3000 or even 30 comments to a post. If I know that someone like you has connected with my writing, it is enough to keep me going.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:42 am
I read all of your posts. Every one. Sometimes from my phone (where commenting is a huge pain in the ass) and sometimes from my Reader. I don’t always know what to say, but I always admire your originality and I’m drawn to it and I’m flattered by your comment.

I especially love what you said about knowing 1000 people. YES. In the early days it DID feel like an intimate writer’s group, and it was easy to fall in love with a handful of people and know the ins and outs of their lives in great detail. Now, not being able to keep up, makes me feel like a bad friend. Like a jerk.

I don’t think I’m quitting. I can’t imagine quitting. I’m hoping to somehow evolve, and allow myself the time and space to do that without obsessing over losing my readership. I don’t know if I’ll be able to or not.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:38 am
Fran says:

First: You’re awesome and I adore you.
Second: You nailed my 1st month or so playing at blogging. When you commented on a post that linked to you, I was completely mystified. Fortunately I stopped short of ning and ads and all of that mess.
Third: If you’ve never read Ecclesiastes, I recommend it. You and “the Teacher” seem highly sympatico in sentiment. “There is nothing new under the sun. What is the point? Eat, drink and be merry. Enjoy life because whatever you gain here on earth? You can’t take it with you.” Ultimately you should make the most of whatever path you’re on.
Finally: I sense a book brewing. Certainly change is afoot. Personal transitions, stepping out in faith, discarding the old and comfortable…these cause tremendous inner turmoil and anxiety. Trust & leap. I have confidence in you, whatever it is you’re going to do.

Love,

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:44 am
You know I adore you, Fran. You are so thoughtful and engaged and intuitive and generous. Truly.

And don’t feel bad about that first month of blogging – we ALL did it. I still see it every day. I’m just so glad we connected, I don’t care how it happened.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:40 am
Redneck Mommy says:

This is all so true.

I am tired. So tired.

But here I am, plugging away. Partly because I don’t know what to do with myself if I don’t blog because it has become such an integral part of my identity since the passing of Shale.

I’m figuring it out slowly.

But I don’t know where the road is taking me just yet.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:47 am
And you blog SO much. I’m always amazed at the frequency of your posts, even after four years. I have envied your resilience and energy so many times, not to mention your ability to constantly engage and connect. Last night on Twitter you mentioned instant feedback. I think that is something I may never be able to let go of. THIS.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:41 am
Sprite's Keeper says:

I started writing for me. Since then, I have gotten more involved in the blogosphere, play along with forums, comment when I like something, comment when I don’t like something, but I always remain respectful. I STILL write for me. I keep things light for the most part of my site because I don’t want to be surrounded by negativity in my own space. I don’t try to stir up controversy, but sometimes, like yesterday’s post, I can confuse people when I change the tone just for fun. But I do it for ME. I write about what inspires me, the kid, life, the minutia.
Do what you need to do. Write what you want to write. Whether for profit or cleansing the soul, you ARE a writer. And your message is beautiful.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:49 am
Thank you.

It’s interesting what you said about what people come to expect of you, and their unexpected reactions when you veer from the regular course. I find that my posts are almost always serious, but in real life I’m not that serious. On Twitter I’m rarely serious. So what is this strange slice of me here?

I’m so glad you do it for you. I wish I could remember how, because I honestly believe that’s the secret to sustainability.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:42 am
Undomestic Diva says:

I haven’t checked my stats in months, have never used a blog reader and no longer worry about posting religiously every day, just to ensure content. I don’t stumble posts, I don’t do awards or accept accolades and I’ve come to realize that I cannot predict what my ever-evolving readership connects with and what falls flat. I make an effort to avoid the controversies that rear their ugly heads in the blog world and I try to remain neutral on the touchy topics because, for me, the blogosphere has become a network of friends; not a business or a market or a demographic or a brand – although I am fully aware it can be all those things.

So, cliche as it is, I do write for me. Yes, I’m aware there’s an audience there who reads it. But as much as I appreciate them and feel honored that they choose to read my words – no matter how silly or trivial they are – I don’t desire to be a ‘top’ blogger, to gain popularity or to get noticed. This is my outlet and the only reason it’s published on the internet is because I know that every once in a while, something I may say just might resonate with someone else and for me, that is good enough.

I read (and yes, lurk) on your blog for reasons much different than other blogs I read – your blog reads like an astoundingly well written novel with imagery that stays with me for days and each time I leave here I feel inspired to try harder, to write better, to re-think that book I’ve always wanted to write.

In the end, you do what feels right for you. I just don’t want you to walk away from this journal without being utterly confident in knowing how amazing and inspiring your writing truly is. Something I should have said a long time ago.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:53 am
I think even if I could get to a place where I truly do those things you so eloquently described in your first paragraph, I would worry people would think I don’t care/don’t like them/am selfish/mean/etc. I realize that’s ridiculous but it’s something I do in real life, too, worry incessantly about how I’m perceived. Someday I’m gonna kick that, I swear. It must be so incredibly freeing.

As for the rest, like I told you earlier, it means more to me than you could possibly know.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:44 am
Robin~PENSIEVE says:

Have I commented here before? Have I READ a complete post of yours before? That’s NO insult to you for me not to remember–you’re so familiar to me, I just can’t place “how”. Twitter? Other people writing about you? I’m old, lol…I just don’t remember.

Your post resonates with me; in the past week alone, I’ve referenced “the evolution of blogging” multiple times…how it’s changed SO MUCH in my four years of writing online.

And interestingly, I’ve read several posts lately referring to blog evolution and social media (WHAT??? I’M R.E.A.D.I.N.G. POSTS???) and the writers’ perspective is varied; so is their response to it.

So…where to from here? I’m still trying to figure that out for me. I know I’m not interested in Internet Dominion, so it helps to rule out one Queen vying for the ultimate crown.

I’m w/Mad’s comment; I’m newish but I love this post; you’ve penned it well. You’ve actually courted me as a regular-as-I’m-gonna-be reader.

I have a crush on you & you have a new stalker. That’s what happens when your writing is wicked schmart….

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 8:57 am
Heh. Well I know who YOU are.

But that’s another thing I think about sometimes — bloggers who have been writing for a while, we tend to take them for granted I think. I rarely comment on Jenny the Bloggess’s posts (even though I read each one) because I know that everyone else will, and she’s not the only long-time blogger I do that with. But if everyone thinks like me, then nobody comments, right? Eventually? So there are names I know and take for granted with alarming regularity, unless something big happens with them and I’m compelled to pop back in. It’s a far cry from the early days of active engagement.

Robin~PENSIEVE Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:55 am
ACTIVE engagement. Yeah. Missin’ that.

Smilin’ at being “known” by one whose writing challenges me to do better .

September 4th, 2009 at 8:48 am
bejewell says:

I’m right hee behind you. Touched a nerve with this one, you did.

I used to check my stats daily. This time 6 months ago, my Technorati number was 73. I swelled with pride over that, even though I really had no idea what it meant.

After months of not checking, I finally did the other day. 13.

I did not care.

Things REALLY change. I don’t even know my blogging self anymore.

I’ve never enjoyed the kind of “popular” success that bloggers like you, the Bloggess, or Redneck Mommy have, and that used to make me so neurotic and anxious — What’s WRONG with me? What am I doing WRONG? — but now I just appreciate your blogs for what they are and, more importantly, I appreciate my own blog for what IT is, what it’s become.

What will my next phase of evolution be? No idea.
I kind of can’t wait to see what i’ll do next.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:01 am
Actually, I think something is wrong with Technorati. Mine dropped like 150 points in three months – does that make sense? I think they do it differently than they used to or something, so don’t feel bad. We shouldn’t even check, right? It’s so good that you’re not. The only reason I check anymore is it’s still somewhat reliable for showing incoming links, and that helps me not miss it when someone mentions me in a post – though I still miss many and feel like a dick. Ahhh, the feeling like a dick thing again. A theme.

Your blog is awesome because it’s so YOU. I know that’s what we all need to be, unapologetically, but for some reason sometimes it’s harder than other times.

I’m not sure I’m even making sense anymore. I’m just glad you’re you, that’s all I’m trying to say. And didn’t I just join your fanclub on Facebook??

September 4th, 2009 at 8:52 am
Jules says:

I haven’t done most of the things you once did to get your blog established, either. My blog readership has grown steadily, but is not where it could be had I put effort into it; had I admitted blogging is a valid form of expression.

And I think that is the problem with many of us, at least with me. It’s hard to give my best effort when a small, yet vocal, piece of me feels a bit guilty or silly enjoying what sometimes feels like navel gazing.

Yesterday Nicholas wanted to wear his pirate’s hat to pick Mikey up from school. He was screaming “ahoy matey!” at the top of his lispy voice. I loved every minute of it and took pictures, of course. I didn’t want to put them on the blog, thinking who cares that Nicholas was a pirate on a random Thursday? But I did it, comments or stats be damned, because in order for me to blog I have to feel free to post items that will only interest me, years from now, when I have forgotten that Nicholas dressed as a pirate on a Thursday and spoke with a near unintelligible lisp.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:05 am
I used to write so much more about my children, or just post pictures. I was thinking about this just a few days ago, when they went back to school. Last year at this time I wrote all about them going back to school, and this year I just felt so… closed up. Unwilling. Stifled? I don’t know. And I can’t imagine that feeling fading as they grow older and the need for their privacy grows greater–yet I mourn the cyber timeline I once kept for them here. Lord knows I’m never gonna actually get it together enough to put together a photo album or something. Oy.

I absolutely agree with you that the hardest part is often trusting that navel gazing is valid. Or even interesting. But 70 million blogs, right?

September 4th, 2009 at 8:54 am
Mojo,NC,USA says:

Damn sis, even when you’re “meta-blogging” you’re poetic. Beautifully so. You do realize, don’t you, that there are those cats among us who pounce on every post of yours that drops into our readers, who lap up these words like sweet cream and then lounge in that virtual sun thinking what a treat it is to have something new of yours to read.

Bah. I SO do not have your gift of imagery… Besides, that metaphor was distinctly feline and everybody knows I’m a dog person. “Write what you know”, isn’t that the other bit of wisdom that’s handed out like fortune cookies with Chinese takeout?

And this? Is why I’ve basically turned almost exclusively to photoblogging. I can’t write that much. It’s just not in me. I’ve got plenty to say, plenty of opinions… that I’m pretty sure don’t interest anyone but me and a handful of friends. So those ramblings go into back-channel emails away from the eyes and ears of the masses who couldn’t care less anyway. Besides, I can write post-sized comments on other people’s blogs and not have to take up space and bandwidth on my own right?

Still, this distillation of the Essence du Blog resonates. I used to obsess over returning comments, fearful that I should offend and become a virtual pariah. Not so much because the readers wouldn’t comment anymore, but because they’d stop visiting altogether. At the peak of this insanity, I could lose entire weekends trying to reciprocomment to everybody. And it became apparent that something was gonna have to give. I could be a good little bloggy citizen or I could have a life. I could comment, or create content. Good content. Not just content for the sake of having some because I needed it to fit a theme. And what do ya know. The sky didn’t fall. My regulars didn’t abandon me in droves, and once the comments dwindled to a manageable level, I realized that the ones who weren’t commenting anymore were the drive-by artists who left such nuggets of wisdom as: “Nice shot! Happy WW! Mine is at imacommentwhore.blogspot.com” Always leaving me to grumble, “I’ve been ‘pasted’.”

So 18 or 20 weekly photo themes is now 9 or 10, and I’ve added my own that’s solely for me (though if others want to pick up on it that’s fine). I’d love to tell you I don’t care abotu the stats, that it’s all about the art, but then I’d have to explain why I’m flipping back and forth to my Sitemeter page as I’m writing this waiting for my 100,000th visitor to show up so I can commemorate the event. (This will happen sometime today, I’m just not sure exactly when. the up-to-the-minute count is 99,799. Could be any old time now.)

But if opening up Casa Mojo did nothing else for me, it has introduced me to some of the most wonderful people — literally — in the world. People I’d walk through fire for.

Present company most definitely included.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:12 am
I want to be your 100,000! That, anyway, would be poetic.

You’re so right that the ones who stay, regardless of whether you are able to reciprocate, are the ones that should be there. I still can’t shake this feeling though that I OWE. I owe and I don’t want debt. And there is so much awesomeness out there and I don’t want to miss it. I don’t know.

I’m gonna go click over to your blog now. Over and over.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:06 am
Velma says:

I’m right in the this of this, dicking around with settling up my own domain and new site and wondering why it is not more of a priority for me. I have been a poor blog citizen the last year, reading far less often and feeling too out of the loops and whoorls and drifting tides of on-line friendships and causes and lives. I’m doing NaBloPoMo this month in the hopes of jolting something loose. It will help to get the kids back to school and out of my face, literally out of my face my son is reading this over my shoulder GO AWAY!

Ahem.
Good post.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:14 am
And I think of you as someone who has been around forever.

Maybe it’s not a straight timeline evolution? Maybe it’s like a corkscrew. I don’t know.

Good for you on the NaBloPoMo. I did it my first year and it was awful.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:07 am
bejewell says:

Touched a nerve with this one, you did.

I used to care so much more about all that external stuff. I checked my stats multiple times per day. Obsessively visited and commented on other blogs. Incurred war wounds from the ugly trolls, but picked myself up and dusted off. I swelled with pride when my Technorati “authority” number hit 73, even though I had no idea what that really meant.

Know what it is now, six months later? 13. Do I care? No.

Because real life happened. My spare time reclaimed me. Priorities became more clear.

I’ve never enjoyed the kind of “popular blog” success that you, the Bloggess, and BHJ have seen. I used to feel so anxious and neurotic about that — What was WRONG with me? What was I doing WRONG?

Now I just appreciate your blogs for what they are and, more importantly, I appreciate my OWN blog for what it’s become — MINE. I blog for others to read, sure, but the words are ALL MINE and I never say anything I don’t mean to please anyone else. I kind of love that about me.

I have no idea what the next step in my blog “evolution” will be, but I can’t wait to see what I’ll do next. Even if no one else cares.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:09 am
Jenny, Bloggess says:

I used to be obsessed with dollhouse building. TOTALLY obsessed. Then one day it got complicated and I wrapped up all the furniture and put the dollhouse on the shelf. It’s been a year and I finally am starting to feel drawn back to it. Any obsessive hobby gets too overwhelming at times…just for different reasons. It’s okay to take a break from knitting, building, sculpting, blogging…it doesn’t make you any less of who you are. Besides, you are a writer and writers right, always. If it’s not a blog it will be a book and if it’s not a book it will be a journal. Take a break, my friend. We’ll be here when you get back and in whatever incarnation works best for you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:19 am
Won’t people forget about me? I mean, isn’t that what we’re all worried about? Neilochka was saying that on Twitter last night, basically that people leave the blogosphere all the time and, after that initial jolt, we move on and forget. And then they lynched him. But, still…. I suppose I have to get to a place where it doesn’t matter. First I have to know where that place is, because I’m so far away from it now.

I hope you go back to that dollhouse. Maybe not obsessively, but in a way that’s gentle and fulfilling. I’ll try to follow your lead.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:12 am
bejewell says:

Maggie, so sorry for the double comment, I didn’t think the first one went throug so I rewrote it. I look like a dumbass now! Nothing new, but sorry anyway. Smooches.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:16 am
Can I keep them both up? I like them.

bejewell Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 11:53 am
Hell, why not? It will show the “evolution of a comment.”

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 12:07 pm
HA. See? That’s why I love you. That right there.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:13 am
Kori says:

I have one advertiser (blogHer), I don’t even have my stat-counter installed because if I do, I feel compelled to check it and then I feel like crap. I write because if I don’t, I go crazy, and I am lucky enough to have a few people who keep coming back and reading. Of course I write knowing I have an audience, but I simply think it makes me a better writer. I am never going to be popular, and I am okay with that. I am good; I tell my truths as best as I can, and I have some people who are along for the ride. Would it be better if I got paid for it (the $33 I got from BlogHer last quarter notwithstanding)? I don’t know. financially, sure, but for me? Maybe not. So I write; that’s it.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:22 am
You’re right that an audience can/will/should make you a better writer. Certainly, though I’ve been stifled by my own imagined standard at times, what I’ve managed to put out there has been better than it would have been if I were journaling. You know what, though? You never know when your readership might grow. It can be a very surprising thing.

You’re also right that finances muddy the waters. I make my living as a writer, this blog included. How could I ever quit?

I’m glad you write.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:14 am
tysdaddy says:

I’ve been reading you for some time. Since back in the day when my blog was so new and yours inspired me. You’ve come a long way, and I am proud to know you.

I have seen my writing chance since I started blogging. My posts are shorter now. Punchier. More is left unsaid than is shared. I’m developing a style of writing that fits and feels comfortable.

I too worry too much about the mechanics. How many views did I have today? What cool blogger, that I’ve tried to befriend with comments and personal interaction, has taken the time to swing by and notice that I write well too? My stats still suck, but I guess that’s the way it goes. Is it who you know? Who drops your link and praises your efforts?

I am weary with all the effort it takes to make a tiny ripple.

So I write for me. There is something to that. People who have read me for a while have learned that. I talk about movies long after they’ve come out. Issues that are no longer on the ticker. I wait for inspiration to come to me instead of searching for it and sharing an opinion just for the sake of opinions.

I am not cool. I am behind the times.

But I’m blogging at my own pace. On my own space. In a flow that is slowly becoming a passion. And maybe someday, I’ll make a dent . . .

As always, you’ve got me writing posts in the comments. You are a dear friend. As dear as someone can be whom I’ve never met. One day . . .

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:32 am
“I am weary with all the effort it takes to make a tiny ripple.”

YES. And yes to so much of what you said.

There’s definitely a different format to blog writing; shorter, punchier, like you said. I think it’s important to flex the rest of your writing muscles alongside the blog (article format, journal format, book format, etc) so they don’t atrophy, and I think I forgot that for a while.

Your posts are so rich. I often read them twice, and I always have to be in the right frame of mind to read them properly. Whatever it is you’re doing, your ripple has absolutely reached me.

tysdaddy Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:59 am
Thank you, my friend. This is an incredibly relevant post right now, and the comments are equally riveting . . .

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:33 am
I agree. I haven’t gotten any work done yet today AT ALL.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:14 am
Lee of MWOB says:

Hey Maggie – I just scrolled through your comments and I’m feeling guilty just looking at how you responded to almost every single comment!! I have nowhere near your readership as you know and I can’t keep up. I just can’t. Who can?

“We bloggers burst forth blindly from the blogspot.com gates and start panting around the track, uncertain where we’re going and utterly unaware of ourselves. ”

I love that line of yours. That is the most perfect description ever of how I felt when I started my blogspot blog which still exists on blogspot because I have no energy to change to WordPress although the thought has gone through my mind… but most of all I was utterly unaware of myself. And I loved that. I talked about that aspect in Neil and Amy’s storytelling session at BlogHer – how I’ve lost that unaware part of my writing and I loved it.

I’m wondering in blogging if you sacrifice the freedom of unawareness for the community of commenters. You know? Once the community comes, your writing changes. Sometimes subconsciously I think I avoid responding to all of my commenters because I want to feel more free when I write. Weird. I never have thought of this before. Avoid responding so I can write more freely….

I think you hit many common feelings that bloggers go through as they evolve – I know this post has resonated deeply with me. I will always be around checking in on YOUR evolution because there is so much left to come. Of that I am certain. Whether it’s on this blog or elsewhere….

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:36 am
I don’t usually reply to all comments — don’t worry! It depends on the post. Most of my posts are kind of like purges and once they’re out I don’t really want to talk about it anymore, unless I’m asked a direct question — and many times then I’ll just reply by email. But a post like this feels like a conversation, and I want to honor that and keep it going. That’s part of the evolution, I guess.

I think you’re right about the sacrifice, the freedom of unawareness for the community of commenters. How can you not worry about who you’ll upset, who you’ll impress, who you’ll inadvertently judge and need to apologize to? And there become so many, many worries that you end up silent. That’s the part I hate.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:26 am
Sunny says:

Very well said. I haven’t written on my own blog in a while, and I feel kind of guilty about it, but at the same time I tell myself “well, I’ll start again when I get my new .com for it” or “I’ll start again after my hubby and I launch our marriage blog” or “I’ll start again after I get a kickbutt design from a professional”… it’s easy to procrastinate writing when you have so many good excuses!

Besides, I’m in the middle of packing 4 classes into 4 weeks, I hardly have time to comment on the blogs that matter to me (yours, VU, and two others) let alone WRITE my own blog, especially when, as you say, we really are writing for an audience.

I’ve been writing for myself for months – a new blog post every night. Too bad it’s only in my head.

Still, I hang on your posts and although Twitter is far down on my list of sites to check (I think I’m weekly now), I like to read your tweets.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but I noticed when a couple of the people I was reading stopped writing, and I still miss them and wonder what happened. I’d definitely notice if you stopped, in a big way.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:39 am
I appreciate that you miss the people who have stopped writing, that you still think of them. I don’t think it’s bad that we do this, I think it’s common human nature. Life goes on, you know? If we all stayed stuck in our mourning time, the world would stop spinning. So I don’t know why it bothers me… I think we get so used to being HEARD and it’s hard to imagine giving that up.

Thank you for hearing me.

Sunny Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:49 am
I think you’re right. You have a voice here, people listen to you. When your world goes from small (having no internet, talking to your neighbors /maybe/), to enormous (people from all. over. the. world. omigosh!) it’s hard to think of going back to the way it was.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:34 am
Vicky says:

*Sigh* I love it here. I need nothing more than this. You have the best commenters. PERIOD. I’m just steeping myself in each and every one and feeling lucky to just be here.

In Social Psychology there is a principle known as the discounting principle. Essentially it goes like this. A person loves to play piano, if you ask them why they play, the will tell you its for their love of playing. Then one day they are offered an amount of money every time they play. After some time passes, if you ask them why they play, they will tell you they now play piano for money…

Why do we blog?

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 9:58 am
I love the people who comment here, too. It’s such a process, and you’re a huge part of it. I get my mind changed by the comments here all the time. All the time.

Maybe it’s that I want to be more in control (of my motivations, of the perception of me, of everything) than that piano player. Maybe it’s that my answer to your last question is evolving yet again.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:46 am
Jett says:

I feel like I’m going blahblahblah when I weigh in on conversations about weblog form, function and finesse. Because, really, is anybody even fucking listening?? I do have views on these matters, but they are lengthy and weighted with time and experience(s), and so are probably better suited to my own post or an e-mail exchange or a phone discussion.

In my heart I am an ‘art for the sake of art’ kind of girl –though I am all for the proficient and visionary getting paid for their artistry– and part of me desperately misses the days where my comments where, to sound like a big snoot, my little Algonquin roundtable. You know, back when there was not one time when you’d hit up a link on Blogger’s ‘recently updateds’ column and come up bankrupt. This medium was very, very exciting and enriching then.

Three things I am profoundly sick of are these:
1) the complete fucking snobbery that some people exhibit (some while actively decrying it!)
2) the sense of entitlement that seems to be more and more pervasive with each passing year
3) the way that every. little. thing. is taken so personally; you can hardly state a dissenting opinion (so as to, YOU KNOW, foster some discussion and exchange and enlightenment on various topics/behaviors/ice cream flavors) without being excoriated and, in some cases, exiled to the gulag. It’s as if a vast majority are just waiting to get their asses up around their shoulders and I’m all, “Really? REALLY??”

Sorry, I don’t mean for this to sound bitter, but today I am very frustrated with all of this. Tomorrow it might not even ping my dang radar.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:01 am
That’s part of what keeps me muzzled–the fear of inadvertently stirring up drama and boiling to death in its pot. There is a lot of perceived power out there, but when they decide to unleash the dogs the effects are very real.

Art for the sake of art, and blogging – mutually exclusive? I don’t know.

Jett Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:38 am
Nonono….I absolutely view writing as art, and blogging in its present form stems from just pure old writing; elevating the mundane of ‘I drank the cup of coffee in complete silence.’ to ‘That cup of coffee was the most real thing in the room, because its output of steam and aroma were the most powerful things there at the time. I enjoyed it flavored with stillness, quiet. Nothing could have blended with it any better than that.’

You know, storytelling, not just just a recounting of facts (which is what weblogs initially were, ironically enough). Storytelling is one of my very favorite arts of all.

And you know what? In the picture of blogging-as-high-school (which much of it has become, oh my heart) I am the weird girl sneaking smokes out behind the school….one day I (along with the other people like me) am going to rally all of you quiet and slightly fearful people into the hallways, surging, the birdfinger our collective emblem, and take back the fucking school from the vapid and clueless and insenstive.

Those fuckers.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:49 am
Jett says:

Also, I jacked the formatting of that comment all up. Please fix? The office is crazy today, pleh.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:02 am
What’s wrong with the formatting? I wouldn’t know how to fix it even if I could see it.

Jett Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:43 am
My italics slipped through my fingers and ran.

Crazy italics.

(I think I meant to close the tag after ‘waiting’? I can’t be sure anymore.)

September 4th, 2009 at 9:56 am
deb says:

i don’t know if blogging for yourself is a fallacy. but i think it is differently defined. i blog for myself because i put things out there for others to read and then i cross my fingers and say a prayer that somewhere, somehow at least one person will validate me. and the more i expose of myself, the more personal the validation, or lack thereof, feels. and to have someone UNfollow me, or whatever, feels personal. but all that does mean i am writing for myself. my need for external gratification. but what i never expected was the joy derived from the varied validation and the gentle and respectful dissension that has actually boosted my confidence and helped me grow.

i really liked this post… for those of us that recognize all the stages, it brought a smile.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:03 am
I worry about myself when I rely too much on that validation. I want the validation to come from inside, because as sweet as the positive comments are, the unfollows you’re talking about seem to cut more deeply. It IS personal. They say it shouldn’t be, but for people like you and I it is. Sometimes it feels great. Other times I just want to crawl inside my shell and sleep for years.

September 4th, 2009 at 9:59 am
Heather of the EO says:

I often wonder how something I love so much can so frequently make me say “I HATE EVERYTHING!”

I struggle with balance too, and I agree that one must admit they ARE writing for others…since, if we have a public blog we are well, literally writing for others. It’s being read. There’s no way to remove that from one’s brain. I don’t think…but maybe…

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:20 am
And maybe we shouldn’t? Maybe we shouldn’t remove it from our brains. Maybe we should be aware of the power of our public voice and treat it with reverence. Leave the rest of the writing for other venues.

Or maybe I’m over-thinking again, thanks a LOT.

September 4th, 2009 at 10:05 am
Dijea says:

I feel like this ALL THE TIME. In real life & in blogging life. I have the brain of an artist or maybe a child – things either hold my interest way to long, or are out in under 3 seconds. But one thing is for sure, I have long since let anyone dictate how I feel about myself – I am pretty stinking fabulous. Yes, I am afraid of rejection – but even when rejected I know that I am good, I know that I am loyal and have the driest sense of humor in the State of Texas so who cares what they think.

My kids (and husband) have started to groan when I sit at the computer and I realize that sometimes this blogging/social media thing has started to consume other areas of my life so I’ve taken a little step back from it – enjoy it when my little men are at school and let it go when they are not. Although I really hate it when I miss something.

You my dear are pretty stinking fabulous too – don’t forget that.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:25 am
I got a lot better about balance in my real life quite a while ago. I made so many mistakes in the beginning of blogging but I’m a quick study and I work very hard to not make them anymore. I never name names, I rarely write about my family or close friends. My kids do see me on my computer a lot, but that’s because my writing is my living and I always explain it to them, show them what I’m working on, show them when it’s in print, explain to them that this is the same as daddy getting in his truck and going off to some roof. But I’m hyper-aware that how things look to them are often times more important than the truth, and I do my best to unplug in their presence.

Or, maybe I’m just fooling myself.

Anyway, the problem with all that is so many topics are off limits, plus your time is so limited, so the blog content suffers. That’s where I don’t know how to balance it. I don’t know what to say.

I wish I could be as confident as you, because even when I’m actively practicing all of these limits I still feel a lot of guilt.

September 4th, 2009 at 10:14 am
MommyGeekology says:

I feel the need to write something here in response, but I’m not sure what to say, except maybe “I agree” and “writing for yourself in a public forum is really hard” and also, maybe, “I don’t think you’re unapproachable at all” — at least, not since we met at BlogHer.

I don’t expect to blog forever. I know that I may stop writing at any point. I might be done with that part. Though, I believe I’ll be back.

Anyone see a huge resemblance to Britney Spears here?

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:27 am
That’s the thing, I know I’m not unapproachable in real life at all, but there are so many factors that go into how you’re perceived online that it’s easy to make assumptions about people you read, to feel like you know them and to read things into how they do or don’t respond to you. I’m very conscious of that and it makes me worry. On the other hand, the rational side of me knows that’s really silly and that all I can do is stay true to myself and trust that other people’s opinions say much more about them than about me. It’s hard, though.

September 4th, 2009 at 10:25 am
Kelly says:

I disagree. You can write for you. You choose not to completely. That’s cool. I do not write for anyone but me. I do not care if anyone reads. I think it is fucking great when they do, but I will keep writing my blog, keeping commenting only when and if I want, and be satisfied. This does not mean I do not want to be a “read” writer. I just know that being “read” as a blogger is different. It just means that I understand that the blog world is about reciprocity, and I thumb my nose at it. I will not be beholden to any standard. If you like me, read me. If you don’t, don’t. With this always in the back of my head, I can and do write only for me. My blog is totally for me. It is how I stretch myself and draft and work on craft, so I can write articles for magazines and places where I will be read.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 11:40 am
And I thought I was where you are but I seem to have changed. I think the change has surprised me. Either way, I admire this most about you and your gorgeous writing.

September 4th, 2009 at 11:25 am
There once was a blogger from Nantucket | Playgroups are No Place For Children says:

[...] Dammit also has some thoughts, related to this very subject. You should read her post, Evolution of a Blogger. [...]

September 4th, 2009 at 11:33 am
Xbox4NappyRash says:

You’ve written some of what I genuinely feel are some of the most gorgeous things here.

Beautiful, pure, and inspiring.

You’ve been generous and encouraging with your lovely words. Thank you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 11:41 am
I still re-read some of your old comments, do you realize that? Your words are important to me.

September 4th, 2009 at 11:35 am
slouchy says:

i wish you were my neighbor. from me, that’s high praise. you — the person you — less than the writer you, although i admire her greatly.

all of this — what you wrote here — is exactly where i am. don’t know what it means, but i’m so tired of trying to figure it out. and maybe that’s a sign in and of itself.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 11:42 am
Yes, maybe it is a sign in and of itself. Maybe it is. Like I told Mad, I’m trying not to make any big dramatic decisions. Just exploring.

I wish you were my neighbor, too. Truly.

September 4th, 2009 at 11:36 am
Robin says:

This post and the concept of “write for you” made me think of the book “The Artist’s Way.”
I feel funny even asking if it’s something you’ve read. Because something tells me someone of your skill and caliber probably knows all about it. But hey, I’ll go out on a limb and offer it up anyway.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 11:44 am
I haven’t read it, but I own it – kind of like every book worth reading. I’m all about collecting books, but find little time to actually read them.

I know the concept though – writing something every morning, forcing yourself to, something like that, right? Without the inner critic? I think I need to get back to basics, really strip it down. Thank you for making me think. I’m gonna go dust that book off.

René Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 3:02 pm
I would second that bit of advice. I strenuously avoided The Artist’s Way for years, which was the first thing that should have tipped me off that I needed it. The second thing was that just reading the title chapter, “Recovering a Sense of Possibility”, made me burst into tears. I’m a sap.

I’ve never commented here before, Maggie. I’m pretty new to blogging (still at the blogspot.com stage). However, I’ve been filling my tank here for a while. You’ve given me a lot to think about today. Thank you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 3:06 pm
I’m so glad you commented.

I agree that the things I avoid most vehemently tend to be the things I most need to hear. (See, thanks to journaling I’ve been doing all this deep thinking.) Recovering a sense of possibility… I like that.

September 4th, 2009 at 11:40 am
Boy Crazy says:

I’ve been sitting here with this page up and I keep coming back to it, thinking I’ll write something, and then I walk away again without saying anything.

I started blogging only four months ago. Before that, I never read blogs, I had no idea about this whole world and subculture that is tied up with blogging. I’ve been a science writer for a few years and freelanced a little in between having babies, and a few friends told me – Hey, you should start a blog. I’d read it.

So I did. And then I discovered this crazy world where everyone knows each other and drama abounds and I started caring about stuff that I didn’t expect to care about (mainly because I didn’t realize what I was getting into) and then I read posts like this and am reminded of what a newbie I am.

Mainly I started blogging as a place to find my personal writing voice after being a science writer and an academic writer for years, but I realize it’s hard not to get sucked in to caring about all of the stuff you mentioned.

I came here because Lea pointed me your way, I stayed because I enjoy your writing. If you keep writing, I’ll still be here reading, whether I comment or not. Good luck figuring it all out.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 12:05 pm
I feel kind of bad that newer bloggers are going to read this and feel discouraged — hopefully not. Hopefully you’ll read it, maybe think a little, and then dismiss it in the interest of what works best for you. That’s kind of the best advice I can give you to navigate what’s ahead: stay strong in why you’re here, why you started, what you believe.

I owe you an email, too. It’s on my to-do list.

September 4th, 2009 at 12:01 pm
AnnetteK says:

How are you always in my head, writing my thoughts? Love this post, it’s exactly what I’ve been feeling about blogging, and social media in general. I used to believe I could write just for me on my blog, but it’s really not possible as long as it’s public. I’ve started journaling again, in an actual notebook with an actual pen and I don’t ever have to think about stats and comments!

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 2:30 pm
I’ve been using an actual pen and actual notebook too and it’s kind of maddening–but I think there’s something for me to learn in WHY it’s maddening, you know? A lesson in slowing down, in resisting judgment, something along those lines. All I know is my writing hand is going to be VERY strong.

September 4th, 2009 at 1:06 pm
rhubarb says:

You know what? I think this is one of the best posts I have ever read. Why did I not realise I was on such a predictable journey? Excellent, Maggie.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 2:32 pm
Oh, I hope it’s not predictable for you, or for me, or for anyone. It makes me sad to think it is. I hope blogging continues to surprise us all. I really do.

rhubarb Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 5:47 pm
If I, like others, are nodding our heads in agreement at what you have read, then then are more than you who have ‘been there done that’. That, to me, makes the journey predictable. And, as Heather says, you have predicted many truths.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 6:31 pm
I don’t know, it feels like too much credit. But it’s kind, and I thank you.

September 4th, 2009 at 1:17 pm
Eternal Lizdom says:

Love this post!! I have not gotten sucked into the world of stats yet… I’m coming up on 1 year of blogging and I blog almost daily, sometimes more (given I have over 500 posts in a year, I guess that’s obvious). I just discovered the stats thing and I find that it turns the blog thing into a game. If I get on Twitter, will I get more Followers? More hits? More links? If I write a “deep” post, will I get more comments? Will traffic go up if I do a giveaway?

I haven’t felt… obsessed. But I do feel concern.

I’ve recently learned what some would call a lesson about internet connections. Got burned by someone. Personally, I’ve done my thinking and just believe she’s nuts. But anyway… there are other connections I’ve made that I know will slowly bloom into great friendships.

I just found you recently- through Twitter. And that led me here! And I’m glad I did. I like your style!

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 2:41 pm
I can’t believe how much you’ve been able to blog in one year! That’s incredible. Good for you. I hope you remain oblivious to stats, resist the “game” as much as possible. And there are absolutely real friendships to be made out there. There are.

September 4th, 2009 at 1:17 pm
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September 4th, 2009 at 1:30 pm
heather says:

But, you’re Maggie, Dammit, damn it.

You have changed. You have also predicted many truths that became self evident for me and my bloggy ways. Obviously, you know what you are doing and why you need to do it.
I have never thought you seemed cold, aloof, or indifferent.

You have been graceful and clear.

I think that this is the part where I explain myself and my blog, but I have nothing. I just like to do it. I like to have a few readers when I need a little help from some friends, but the many ‘no comment’ posts are out there too. The only thing I can say is that my blog was the only place that let me lose everything and pick myself back up again. That is a gift, huh?

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 2:42 pm
It is. It is a gift for sure.

September 4th, 2009 at 1:52 pm
Nap Warden says:

I have been through the whole cycle (except I am a designer)…now I’m on the other side wondering “what now?” Seems everyone has kind of hit this wall…Here’s to finding the other side;)

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 2:42 pm
What now? Let me know if you find out first.

September 4th, 2009 at 2:04 pm
trish says:

Brilliant post about blogging, blog evolution and development .Blogging – It is a bit Darwinish and the best and strongest win and survive.
I agree with the fact that we connect with each other through our words. That is why I continue to blog. It is my favorite part of blogging.
I confess I still get a little excited when my faithful commenters comment and even more when someone new finds my blog interesting enough to read, and comment on.
I hardly ever check or worry over my stats though I know I lost ground when I stopped blogging daily after a crisis … the same day I got my most comments ever was about a major crisis in my life.
The comments truly made a difference.
Thanks.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 4:14 pm
It’s my favorite part of blogging, too. When I think about what we’ve been able to do together just because of blogging? I’m floored. I’m reverent. I’m grateful. There are so many things I could do without but, like that extended relative you reluctantly adore, I’m not sure I’d want any of it to be any other way. And yes, in my darkest times, readers have been there for me, really been there, just a simple click away. It’s incredibly generous.

September 4th, 2009 at 3:10 pm
Pat says:

Sounds as though you might do well to spend next Saturday at the Spring Green Literary Festival.
http://www.springgreenlitfest.org

You know it’s your kind of place!

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 4:15 pm
Ack, I know! I know. I can’t make it. I’ve been gone too much and my kids would have my hide. I had planned on it… I even read Mudbound (brilliant book, truly)… ahhh, who knows, maybe I can still talk them into it.

September 4th, 2009 at 3:20 pm
OHmommy says:

It’s much like a hobby. At first, you are incredibly excited and in love. Eager to learn everything. I am at that point where I say, “I quit” a couple of times a month.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 4:16 pm
So what keeps you in the game?

OHmommy Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 10:13 pm
Truthfully? My family.

They beg for more stories and I get to exercise my writing. Which is C- at it’s best. But keeps my family smiling. I’m not looking for money. Or fame. It’s a hobby for now that I enjoy and resent. And my family presses me for more.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:20 am
That’s awesome then. I have family members who read, but they’re not all excited about it–and many don’t get it at all. I’m glad you’ve got your family’s support, and those stories you write about your heritage are invaluable.

September 4th, 2009 at 3:50 pm
Cheryl says:

Wow Maggie, I cannot tell you how timely this is for me. Even though I didn’t go to BlogHer, even though I don’t have near as cool a blog as you (no really, your blog & Violence Unsilenced ROCK), and even though I’m (thankfully) NOT caught up in the daily web-drama of *some* bloggers, I have been feeling increasingly disinterested in social networking, my blog, and electronic media in general.

I also remember the feeling of writer’s cramp, and writing/drawing in my journals at all hours of the day or night, having it be just for me, knowing it wasn’t for public consumption, and being okay w/ that, not feeling compelled to air my laundry to all 26 of my readers … And really? I kind of miss that. I miss the writing truly being just for me.

I don’t know what this means for my on-line life, I just know that I want to spend a lot more time focusing on my off-line life. Especially with my 3-year old daughter.

That said, if it wasn’t for Twitter, or FB or all these great blogs in my Google Reader, I’d never have found such awesome women, moms, dads, writers, bloggers, thinkers, and yes, even friends.

So many women on Twitter in particular were awake and willing to talk in the middle of the night when Dex was just a baby, and they walked me through a LOT of crap during those dark days/nights, they still do. Thank G0d for them. Thank G0d for their blogs too b/c it was oh so nice to have something to read (especially the ones that cracked me up at 4am).

Thank G0d for you too! You sure inspire the heck out of me. So, thanks!

Xoxo’s,

Cheryl ~

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 4:53 pm
That balance between real life and blogging life is much more critical than the balance inside of blogging, if that makes sense, at least it is to me. And it’s hard, so hard, when all that lovely validation comes from your readers, all those hard-fought nights when you just want to reach out and know someone hears you and they do, they do! I hear you. I’m so thankful for them, too.

September 4th, 2009 at 4:33 pm
flutter says:

I’ve been feeling this lately, my imbalance. my lack of being able to connect in a meaningful way…or to be connected to.

My blog used to be beautiful and I look at it now and want to cry.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 4th, 2009 at 6:26 pm
I cry when I’m over at your blog, too, but it is never for lack of beauty.

September 4th, 2009 at 5:55 pm
krista says:

i used to want to be a BLOGGER. you know, the rank, the panels, the audience. i was so inarticulate and so lacking in any kind of voice. so i gave up on sitemeter, ignored technorati, took off my blogroll and don’t even think about advertising. i comment when i feel as though i want to say something and i only post when i want to. i don’t have very many readers and i’ve noticed that i’ve found such an amazing little perch in the virtual world we communicate in. i write without editing, i never write drafts and then post later, i do not use this medium as a showcase nor do i use it as a journal. it’s somewhere in between. it’s me writing what i want, freely, knowing that there is an audience so using that little bit of context to shape what i say and why i say it. i hold a lot back, but i give myself the freedom to use poor grammar if that’s what flies out and i sometimes write about little things in life i like and sometimes it is just photos. it’s all little pieces of a scrapbook of myself that i can print out into a notebook and look at later and think “wow, those were the moments i wanted to remember.”
i’m tired of other bloggers judging my writing. i’ll save that for the novel when i get it published.
wow. i’m rambling. it’s just so interesting…this culture of blogging.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:02 am
I like that, I like how you’re doing things and how you went about figuring out exactly what that should be. I admire that.

I think, in my case, I felt like if I was going to be spending so much time on it (and it IS a time suck, even when I only post once or twice a week), I needed to find a way to A) get paid for it, since freelance writing is my full-time job, and B) use it (ie Violence UnSilenced. I don’t do drafts or anything like that, it’s more this steady pressure to not put anything out there that doesn’t have a point. I guess, like pretty much every pressure in my life, it’s manufactured and self-imposed. Gotta work on that.

September 4th, 2009 at 6:46 pm
Amber @ Classic Housewife says:

WOW.

So much of this has been me, and some of it I have happily avoided. I have tried to hard to build, build, build and been so frustrated that it’s not going, going, going. But then in recent days with all the clawing at each other that has been going on in regards to disclosure and advertising and reviews and whatnot — I have been thankfully spared because, well, in 4 years I have not evolved high enough to receive offers to review or sponsorships to travel to blog conferences or any of the other perks. So no perks. But no drama. Probably because my own blog evolution has been so crazy and lopsided and topsy turvy, starting out on a private blog, then a wordpress.com blog under a different name, then self-hosted wordpress under a different name, then dividing up that one under the same name into 6 different sub-domains…goals-shifting, methods-changing, consistency inconsistent.

I went through my first real break and come-back with renewed and clarified intentions a couple months ago. My post was not nearly as brilliant as this one, but I came to the conclusion that I need to put more of me back into yet. Yes, for “you,” but not at the expense of me, not at the expense of my family or my responsibilities. Not at the expense of good writing.
And There is Life Outside the Bloggy World.

The blogosphere is definitely changing. What will it change into, I wonder?

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:26 am
I wonder what it will change into, too. It’s so new in the grand scheme of things, so new. As for “evolving high enough” to receive those perks, I actually don’t think it has as much to do with traffic as people think. I think if you go after it you get it, and so many have. You also touched on how much you’ve moved around, and I agree that makes a huge difference in a medium that’s become so focused on branding. I’m glad you took the break you needed, and clarified things for yourself so well. In the end that’s all that should matter.

September 4th, 2009 at 7:13 pm
Coast Rat says:

My blogging seems to happen when I feel inspired to tell a story or two, which, I thoroughly enjoy doing – sharing a story, that is. Trying to impress others, “stats,” advertising, reader numbers, hmmmm… not too important.

Enjoying what you do in life, reaching out to others, in whatever way(s) you want to, trying to make a positive difference to others, that IS important. My favorite quote of the few I have on my Facebook site, is: “Live every day like it may be your last, because one of these days, it will be.”

Not that everyday life is that simple, but some things in it, can be…

I should be back within a stone’s throw of you in about 10 days. Tired. With a good feeling in my heart. With a dear wife again. Ready to move on to the next day.

Take care, my friend!

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:27 am
You have so many stories, my friend, so many great stories. What you are doing for your family is an invaluable gift, that’s how I see your blog. An evolving gift.

Now when you say you’re coming home, do you mean for good??

Coast Rat Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:47 am
The family seems to be enjoying the stories.

Yes, I will arrive home on Sept. 15th or 16th, FOR GOOD! Most everything I have left here, is packed and out of the trailer, over at John’s, waiting for my brother from Richland Center to arrive with his pick-up and enclosed trailer on the 13th. My travel trailer will stay here, at a different location, with an elderly couple, for as long as they want to live in it. Really looking forward to being back in my home and with Pat, and the two new kittens (that I have not seen in person yet. And to arrive back just before the Fall colors, is neat! I will miss the coast, and all the people here that I have met, helped rebuild and worked with, but I am wearing down, and it’s time to get back home.

I look forward to seeing, working and celebrating with you Oct. 3rd!

Take care!

September 4th, 2009 at 7:24 pm
Cecily says:

Whoa. Lady, you really need to get out of my head. Out, dammit!

Brilliant. Fucking brilliant.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:09 am
Out, damn spot!

Thank you.

September 4th, 2009 at 7:50 pm
Monda says:

If this is about “writing for ourselves” then there’s no need for comments, subscriptions, or that pesky template dance. We’d all be scribbling in our Moleskines at the coffee shop instead. End of story.

No one blogs without an audience in mind. In fact, we’d whip out some fairly loathsome writing without them. These posts would be agonizing “guess you had to be there” reflections – no good.

Instead, I suggest we “write what we want to read” and make sure that the audience in our head isn’t, 1) a frowning jury of malcontents, and 2) confused with “fans.”

The blogging lies somewhere in the middle.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:28 am
Excellent points. “Write what we want to read” is what I have always done, I think, though I’ve never articulated it the way you do. I know that’s what I do in my professional work, so I don’t know why it never occurred to me before. Thank you for that.

September 4th, 2009 at 7:56 pm
abdpbt says:

Aww, you old skool bloggers are always overthinking things. I am still new enough to not have gotten tired of blogging yet, and when I think I “do it for me,” I include all of those things–building it as a business, growing as a writer, balancing the demands of the audience with my own needs as a writer. All of that is “for me.” And you know what, if I didn’t blog, I wouldn’t be writing now, period. Because that’s what I did for 35 years–not write, or write about stuff that wasn’t “for me.” So I feel like, it’s all gravy.

I did the whole online social thing on messaging boards first, so I don’t have any illusions about the limitations of and nature of online friendships (i.e. if you stop posting, some of those relationships will fall off. It just happens). I also know that in regular life, we are limited by so many things that we are free from online, and that is one of the great things about it. Enjoy it. If you don’t like it, then take a break from it, or quit. But always do what makes you happy, and when it stops, then you stop. People will always be here to read you because your writing speaks to us.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:30 am
The thing is I’m not as old skool as so many are. I didn’t even think of myself that way until very recently. It’s like I aged overnight… kind of exactly like in real life.

You have a very strong, very solid, very clear voice. You may not ever lose your way.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:18 pm
Miss Behavin says:

Maggie, I found this post so eloquent and thought-provoking, then again, I love your style regardless of the topic. You write with such passion. You’re real. Honest. Raw. Inspiring. Truly! I rarely comment, in fact, this may be the first time. But, I always read.

I’ve been writing for myself for over twenty years, and I have a huge Rubbermaid tote in the back of my closet filled with journals. I used to enjoy sitting with that tote once a year, usually New Year’s Day, to re-read entries from the previous year; you know, to take an introspective look into how far I had come in life, as well as relive some of life’s sweeter moments.

Blogging, I have discovered, is entirely different. While I feel as though I can still write for myself, it’s only in the sense of how I feel or what I experience, and which of those parts I choose to share, because blogging IS so public. I love it, but it’s also restricting and kinda stifling at times, especially when you know that your family and friends are reading regularly, the clerk at the grocery store found it, the local bartender reads it, and extended family members that you don’t particularly get along with discovered it on Facebook and are now microscopically dissecting your every word.

I’ve been blogging a little over a year, and while I feel blessed to finally have some readers, I’m also painfully aware that it’s no longer just about me. I feel more pressure now knowing that people I know read my blog…even if I know they don’t like me.

I’ve had to go back to free style writing in my journal to get a lot of stuff out and make sense of it all. Regroup. Prioritize.

To me, writing is the most important part of it all – blog or not! I don’t worry about stats, traffic, SEO, page rank, technorati, etc… but, I do notice when I’m not receiving comments.

Take care of you, and the rest will fall into place.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:32 am
I LOVE that you have that Rubbermaid tote. I have one for my junior and high school diaries, but it’s more an albatross than anything of value. I hope, now that I’ve started journaling again, I will make new totes like yours.

And I completely agree about the grocery store clerks, etc. I live in a very small town and lately those faces are the first I think of when I sit down to write, which is incredibly stifling.

You’re right: writing is the most important part of it all. For you and me both.

September 4th, 2009 at 8:24 pm
Corina says:

I can relate to every little piece of this post. And even after all that, I still have not found my voice. Or developed a true tribe.

Slowly, I am learning that my voice may just be as chaotic as my own brain. That I never had a tribe in my life, so why should now be different. And slowly, oh so slowly, I am learning to accept that for what it is. It is true that we don’t write for just ourselves. We would like to think that we do, but we don’t. It is to be read. But slowly, ever so slowly, I am learning to let that go as well. To simply be what I have always been. A listener, an occasional pot-stirrer, occasionally sarcastic, sardonic and humorous, and supportive, and a semi-leader living on the fringe. And that will just have to be enough.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:33 am
Maybe that’s what it ultimately comes down to, then? Accepting ourselves. Feeling solid in that. Then I guess none of the rest of it would matter, right?

September 4th, 2009 at 8:52 pm
Elaine says:

I used to write with pure abandon, once upon a time, but those days are gone. Now I stare at my screen and idly press keys; an e here and an f there, then I delete them. This can go on for hours. I have nothing to say; nothing at all. That’s why I left. Strangely, it was the time I spent away from blogland that made me realise I had a lot to say, and so I came back. Three months on? I’m back at square one; hovering in the middle, going nowhere. My blog is like a stale marriage and I don’t know whether to try doing things a bit differently or just walk away. My stat counter has long since been forgotten. My old friends have gone. I know I have more lurkers than commenters. I want the pizazz back. Where is it?

Great post.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:34 am
I think we can only have that pizazz, that real joy, if we can write like no one is reading. Which doesn’t always make for good blogging, and that’s the problem I’m having, too.

September 5th, 2009 at 1:33 am
A Free Man says:

Well, Maggie, you nailed blogger angst. Or at least my blogger angst. Wonder how you’re so familiar with that…

I think I’ve finally come full circle and started writing for myself again. I’ve come to the realization that no matter how hard I try I’m not going to be a professional blogger. So fuck it, write what you want.

Doesn’t keep me from obsessing about stats, though.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:35 am
I think you and I share a lot of similar angst, my friend.

I’m glad you’ve come full circle. I’ve always admired your blog because it is wholly yours, not like anyone else’s out there.

But yeah… once an obsessive, always an obsessive, right?

September 5th, 2009 at 1:56 am
Jill says:

I’ve been a lurker for well over a year now, sometimes leaving a comment or two here and there, most of the time sitting here in India just basking in your beautiful words, your eloquent posts.

About a month ago (august 1 to be exact) I wrote a similar post… though for totally different reasons. My blog truly is written for me, or more importantly for my kids. It’s a journal, a log, a keepsake to show them when they get older about all the wacky, zany, chaotic things they / we do while living as nomads overseas. Because of the nature of my blog, I don’t do reviews, participate in the WWs, or advertise – as it would take away from the tone, the reasons why I write each post. I’m never lacking material, moreover the ability to hit the publish button on several topics. Thus I often stare at my screen, wondering if I can say what I want … while anticipating the repercussions.

My blog only became public a few years ago, and while the readership is still predominantly family and close friends, it’s suddenly spiked interest in the expat community, in the Government circles, with the locals. And now people comment, editorialize, feel they have a say in our life and our experiences. I have to preface, to defend, to deflect…. and what used to be an open dialogue has turned into stretches in between posts and a barrier between what I want to say and what I actually write. I have to watch my p’s and q’s … to be politically correct.

Anyway, I only comment here as it came as a surprise that someone as well known as you, as introspective as yourself would write about the issues of exposing yourself… of the stresses …. of insecurities… I did more than a few head nods while reading… I related.

Here’s hoping you don’t go away again – even if I just lurk from a distance.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:40 am
“And now people comment, editorialize, feel they have a say in our life and our experiences. I have to preface, to defend, to deflect…. and what used to be an open dialogue has turned into stretches in between posts and a barrier between what I want to say and what I actually write. I have to watch my p’s and q’s … to be politically correct.”

YES. That’s it exactly. I know it’s my responsibility, that if I put it out there it’s all on me, yet it kills me to allow everyone who wants to to have a say. That’s why I write so rarely about the specifics of my family. I always think, “how would I feel if someone judged this?” I am so terrified of my reaction to judgment. Nothing rolls off my back. I’m no duck.

I like what you’re doing for your family. It’s priceless.

September 5th, 2009 at 3:32 am
IB says:

Maggie, thanks for writing this. I am in exactly the same place right now. You have managed to articulate so well what I have been feeling about blogging. I know I’m on some kind of evolutionary arc. I don’t want to give up blogging because I enjoy writing and the feedback is usually positive which is a real ego-boost. Besides I’ve made a few close friends with some great people who happen to be very talented writers and I don’t want to lose that part of it.

IB

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:42 am
The problem is we become too dependent on that ego boost and we don’t even know it’s happening, much like an addict’s slide into drink. When we suddenly have less of it we find ourselves murdering for more. When we go to write other things, we find them less satisfying than the instant validation of blogging. But yes, the inspiring writers, the good friends… it feels impossible to give up. So we shouldn’t.

September 5th, 2009 at 5:49 am
Postmarc says:

Dammit, you continue to amaze. Even in the onion layers of a blog about a blog and blogging, the long slender strands of golden wheat are everywhere.

But since this time of year is when we begin to reflect on all that has happened, here’s my $0.02.

If your balance keeps you here with unscheduled posts at your convenience, then we all are lucky.

If your evolution means you start working on something to fill up your lower left desk drawer, and OFD becomes a time in our lives where we grew and loved and learned, then all of us should feel blessed to have shared this time.

If it means, sniff, that OFD only has one post in a year, then I am sure it will be some of the best wordcrafting in a sea of wannabes and I will sit down with a glass of red wine and drink it all in and wait until the next year.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:44 am
I think because you don’t blog yourself, or read that many blogs, you’re blissfully unaware of how infrequently I post compared to other bloggers. And that’s fine by me. Most of the bloggers I read post 4-6 times a week — can you imagine? My point is I already do that, what you’ve suggested, but it still nags at the back of my mind all the time (I should be posting, I should be posting, but I have nothing to say, I have nothing to say…)

Thank you for always being here.

Postmarc Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 6:35 am
And I think that was my point–in your version of minimalism, we savor each and every one of your posts. I am probably getting dangerously close to sounding like I am putting you on a pedestal somewhere, but quality beats quantity any day, especially with blogs. I have explored other blogs, but you, my friend, have set a very high bar, so I will continue in my blissfulness…

September 5th, 2009 at 6:00 am
Maria says:

Blogging has taught me the power of chance and the value of talent.

I posted something along these lines but a fraction as eloquent yesterday.

September is a month of renewal and change for me, because I love the fall. Love it. Can’t wait for it.

I’m glad you’re here.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:45 am
Yes, “the power of chance and the value of talent.” That’s so true.

September is for me, too. Partly because it’s my birthday month, partly because of the weather change, partly because of the kids going back to school and routines reestablished… I don’t know, it feels like a much more natural transition than January 1st, which is basically just a new day on the calendar.

September 5th, 2009 at 6:17 am
Heather of the EO says:

Now I’m over-thinking and responding to your response to my response. Ha!

That’s just it. What you said, “Maybe we should be aware of the power of our public voice and treat it with reverence.”

It’s such a fine line, but I really believe that to be true. If there’s a largish number of people reading my blog, they’re taking their time to spend in my space and for the most part, they’re respecting my words. I want to respect that (and them) too. So I do think of them when I write. I just wish I could completely set aside my people pleasing tendencies. I would write more freely AND think of the readers at the same time, I think, if I weren’t trying to please everyone. I suppose blogging is good for a people pleaser…it forces me to let go of control a little.

So that’s why I don’t quit…just like my blog, I’m a work in progress, and blogging teaches me. Sometimes it’s just really painful. Blech.

The End.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:46 am
“So I do think of them when I write. I just wish I could completely set aside my people pleasing tendencies. I would write more freely AND think of the readers at the same time, I think, if I weren’t trying to please everyone.”

ME, TOO.

September 5th, 2009 at 6:47 am
Ginny says:

This is the most perfect post I’ve ever read.

Thank you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:47 am
That means a lot. Thank YOU.

September 5th, 2009 at 7:10 am
Lora Lynn says:

Popped over from Pensieve’s site.

I started our blog to record family memories. My husband and I view this as part of my “job” as family historian. (It’s not a “job” per se, since I really love it, right?) So when I start to have a Crisis of the Blog, I always fall back on that line, “I’m really just doing it for my kids to read about their crazy early days.”

But deep down, I know that’s not entirely true. Blogging has given me an identity I didn’t know I had. Because of the nature of my life, blogging is My One and Only Hobby. It’s something I know lots about. And I like to talk about it. I like the relationships blogging has brought me.

So even though my blogging goals are noble and “not for me,” the truth is, I write for me. I write so that one day, I can look back on the “me that blogged” and remember who she was. Remember that she was liked. And remember the little family that was.

I also write so that if I end up in a padded room with drool on my chin and a “special jacket, ” my kids will know it was their fault.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:49 am
I started out that way, too, like a digital scrapbook for my family, a kind of extension to our annual holiday card for anyone who cared. I think I panicked when the other readers came, ones who didn’t “know” us and weighed in anyway. I think I felt exposed, and I retreated and changed. Maybe I’m using the word “evolution” in its most hopeful sense. I hope I’m evolving, not censoring. I wonder sometimes, though.

It sounds like you are really clear in your purpose and your motivations and your value. That’s EVERYTHING, and I’m so glad.

September 5th, 2009 at 7:54 am
we_be_toys says:

It’s reassuring, to me at least, to know I’m not the only one who feels like this. I haven’t written a post since June 3rd, and you know what? Oh bla dee, oh bla dah, life does go on! I’m not a big fan of pandering to the crowd, and you’re right, blogging is for mass consumption, and therein lies my disaffection. I haven’t quit, but I have given my offline life more priority, and dammit, it’s been a wonderful summer of lazy days and long nights of reading and playing with the kids; of hanging out with that man I love so very much, and throwing parties for the whole family to get together. I am feeling the itch to write again but I really don’t give a damn who reads it at this point. (I think there’s a part of me that secretly hopes all my readers will have left, so I can just say what I want – not that I wouldn’t at this point, but you know what I mean, right?)

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:50 am
We’ve talked about this before but the offline life is so critical, especially when kids are involved. I no longer worry about balance with my offline life, I feel like I’m on the right track there. It’s more like…what do I do with this space when I’m here?

Whenever you write, you know I’ll be there.

September 5th, 2009 at 9:08 am
Nixgrim says:

Unlike you, I never did any of that publicity stuff. Mostly because in the beginning I was terrified of identify theft. Instead, I definitely “blog for me”. My blog is my diary. It’s my record of things I’m thinking, feeling and experiencing. However, I ALSO blog for others in that I do package what I write. As my feed readership has grown and I’ve been exposed to increasing numbers of other bloggers, I’ve become more conscious of HOW I write. At the end of the day though, I keep reminding myself that I blog for me, and me alone. It’s the only way I can keep my writing real.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:51 am
I’m glad you feel so solid in that space, that’s the key. Truly.

September 5th, 2009 at 9:38 am
pamela ~ the dayton time says:

I just hope that if you decide to wrap up this blogging thing, you’ll point me in the direction of your words. Because I love the way you paint, the way your words pull on my heart, the way you make me think. Thanks so very, very much.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:51 am
Thank you for that, hon.

September 5th, 2009 at 10:23 am
Issa says:

Maggie, I love this post. I absolutely do. I have no answers however, because I feel the same way.

It’s almost funny, but I feel less connected to blogging and to the community, since BlogHer. Something that I thought would makes me more connected, instead made me feel like I just don’t belong anymore.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:53 am
I’ve felt a bit funny since BlogHer, too, and I’m not sure exactly why. I had a wonderful time, and I made (and further cemented) some true connections. Maybe it’s this little voice in my head that says if I quit my blog tomorrow, would they still be excited to hang out with me at BlogHer ’10? I hate to say something so cynical, and it may not even be true. I don’t know. I have to think about this more (THANKS, ISSA, DAMMIT.)

Issa Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 10:20 am
Oops, sorry honey. But I wonder the same dang thing. Maybe I just over think this too much. I stopped blogging once. Shut down my blog for 18 months. Some people were awesome when I came back, but most weren’t. I’ve made new freinds, amazing friends. True friends. But I still wonder. If I left tomorrow, would they still want to know me. I have no answers.

I will tell you this much. I wish I’d met you at BlogHer and I would love to meet you next year. I hope both of us are still blogging then, but either way, I’d still want to meet you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 6:39 am
18 months is a lonnnnnnng time in blogland. My friends were still there after my break, but I was only gone a month. 18 months is an eternity. I would bet a big portion of your original readers weren’t even blogging anymore. Sometimes my blogroll feels like a graveyard.

I wish I had just gotten over my shyness in that panel (the one I was sitting behind you in) and tapped you on the shoulder. I could feel my hand jerking several times but I never actually did it. I’ll be there next year for sure.

September 5th, 2009 at 10:50 am
Sugar Jones says:

And here I was thinking it was just me.

I’m glad you write for you. I’m even more thankful that you keep blogging for us… with YOU all over.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:54 am
Deep down everything I do is for you, girl, you know that.

September 5th, 2009 at 12:16 pm
Courtney Velasquez says:

Excellent post! You were right on the money…I guess we as bloggers all go through some of the same things whether we are a review blogger or life blogger. I’ll be adding you to my RSS feed:)

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:08 am
I think we definitely go through the same things, it’s just to soon to tell what the outcome will be. Thank you!

September 5th, 2009 at 12:54 pm
Ann says:

I relate so much I can’t even comment except to say.

Yup. Uh-huh. Me, too.

You’re amazing.

xo

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:07 am
Karaoke next Tuesday? Like, not tomorrow, but the next week?

And you know I could talk about this blogging thing all day. So let’s do that soon.

September 5th, 2009 at 2:53 pm
Loralee says:

I had a good laugh at this because wooh, boy! Have I been there.

I’ve been blogging about 4.5 years, which is a damn long time in internet years and I have now reached the, “Meh” stage.

I still love blogging, I do…I’ve just gotten to the point where I realize that I play by my rules (being lazy, doing what I want online), there is usually an outcome and price to pay for it (Not getting invited to this event and that or becoming “a” list, etc.) .

The thing that has changed for me is that I just don’t mind the cost that it takes to do what I want with my blog so much anymore.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:06 am
I think so many bloggers think if they can just get to a certain pinnacle, they can quit reciprocating, reading, participating, etc (ala dooce)–but I’ve never seen that really work for anyone. Plus, it shows how fake so much of it is, right?

4.5 years, girrrrrl. Like I said to Schmutzie, I’d love to pick your brain sometime.

Loralee Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 1:55 pm
Yup. 4.5 years, but only (almost) 4 on Looney Tunes.
Pick away, though I am sure you know more than I do.

I don’t feel like I can stop participating it’s that my traffic, correspondence, reader, blah, blah,blah, has gotten to the point that it is too damn big to manage without full time compensation and/or my brain exploding. (I am a notoriously BAD multi-tasker).

And really? For how much Dooce makes a month? She should engage more. It’s her entire livelihood so I am not totally sure why we expect so much less from her yet have such demands of people that are mostly doing this for little or nothing.

If that makes sense.

September 5th, 2009 at 5:54 pm
Loralee says:

P.S. Not to say that I “NEVER” mind the cost. Everyone likes to feel important and loved. It just isn’t the priority for me so much anymore.

September 5th, 2009 at 5:56 pm
Melissa says:

I left two months ago and haven’t really looked back. Then again, food blogging is a whole ‘nother animal. The few moments I get tempted to go back, I just read all the fake comments on other blogs, comments meant solely for reciprocation and… yeah, no, not going back.

But I miss you, Maggie. Wanted to check in and see how you were. Lots of love.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:05 am
Another friend of mine who quit talks about this great relief, HUGE relief. Relief relief relief. I don’t know if it would be that way for me or not.

Thanks for popping in, I hope you’ll keep doing that. I’ve missed you, too.

September 5th, 2009 at 5:59 pm
tracey says:

Muwah. Original thoughts? Do such things even exist anymore?

Nah.

But it’s ok. No scorecards in life unless you keep it yourself….

Have a nice break and see ya soon.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:03 am
I am SO guilty of keeping scorecards in life, imaginary scorecards. And it’s never good. I never win, and neither does anybody else.

September 5th, 2009 at 7:16 pm
Kay says:

And this? Is a huge part of why I’ve been hiding, silent. Why I can’t seem to catch up on my feeds, no matter how hard I try. Why I can’t seem to comment on the posts that hit closest to home.
Maybe a break is needed… or maybe just a new perspective.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:03 am
I have yet to meet a blogger who WASN’T glad he/she took a break when it was needed. For me, taking a break made me truly miss this writing format, miss it in a way that surprised me–and I needed that. Kind of like how you don’t appreciate someone until they’re gone. You have to really feel it, you know?

Breaks are good.

September 5th, 2009 at 10:50 pm
Jack says:

I can relate. Been blogging for 5.5 years. I have more than 7 thousand posts on my main blog and all sorts of posts scattered on others.

My traffic has never been larger than it is today, but I find myself more frustrated than ever before. I don’t have the same time/energy to visit other blogs and I wonder if the quality of my writing has dropped.

And while I very much appreciate the comments and feedback, ultimately I really do write for me. I know of few things that provide me with as much joy/pain/pleasure as this.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:02 am
7,000 POST??

WOW.

I think what you said there at the end is the heart of it. Writers need to write. Right?

Jack Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 10:42 am
It is 7,000 and change on the main blog. However, I have been known to recycle posts so we can probably eliminate about 100 or so.

I have a few other blogs that I write or have written for so the real number is higher.

Anyway, the bottom line is that writers need to write. Blogging is one of my favorite ways to try and keep my skills sharp. Practice, practice, practice.

September 5th, 2009 at 11:20 pm
Veronica says:

140 comments on and I feel strange adding another one.

But, Oh Maggie, you’ve said it so well. So well.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:01 am
I’m comforted that it’s such a shared experience, but I don’t know what to DO about that, you know? What do we do about that?

September 6th, 2009 at 12:04 am
Kim (frogpondsrock) says:

I hear you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:00 am
That might be the most important thing of all. That right there might be what keeps me going more than anything. Being heard.

September 6th, 2009 at 3:14 am
Mommy Cracked says:

I am never disappointed when I read a post of yours. Ever.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:58 am
Damn, girl. Thank you.

September 6th, 2009 at 6:28 am
schmutzie says:

Yep. *nods head empathetically*

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:58 am
And if I’m old, you’re a DINOSAUR. I’d love to privately pick your brain sometime about how you stay motivated, about how your own evolutionary arc is playing out. Pretty please?

September 6th, 2009 at 5:03 pm
Stimey says:

Nicely said. I’ve been blogging for two and a half years now and I know as my audience has changed, so has my writing. I like to believe that I still write for myself, and I do, but now I always have that audience in mind. So much of what you’ve written in this post has gone through my head as well. It’s an interesting medium, blogging. And it’s interesting what it does to us and for us.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:59 am
It is interesting, isn’t it? I say in this post that we only think/talk about blogging incessantly in the beginning, but that’s not entirely true — I have friends, even some who are now lapsed bloggers, and we STILL talk blogging pretty much every time we’re together. To me, it’s endlessly fascinating. I can’t help it.

September 6th, 2009 at 5:20 pm
Captain Steve says:

I’m a lazy blogger. I admit, I like that there are approximately 5-7 people out there who can commiserate. I guess since I’m awkward in person, I make internet friends. And never meet them in real life. My God, I’m a recluse.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:22 am
I think a lot of bloggers are recluses for sure. It’s a whole new form of socialization that speaks to introverts, and has yet to be studied long-term. I can’t wait to read the definitive book on this blogging movement someday. The important thing is you’ve found what works for you, right?

September 6th, 2009 at 9:49 pm
Laurie | Your Ill-fitting Overcoat says:

Almost every word of this has been my exact experience. To a degree that’s a little freaky, actually.

I shut down comments a few months ago, stopped obsessively checking stats soon after, and finally gave up on reading every post in my reader (or even half of them, let’s be honest).

Now I post once a month or three times a day, I write silly poems, I post pictures with no words at all, I write lengthy treatises on things that matter and on things that don’t matter at all. I checked this morning for the first time in awhile and was surprised to see that my subscriber count has barely dipped at all.

For whatever that’s worth.

You’re an amazing writer and I’m glad you can see that there will be life on the other side. People will read you, slickly-packaged or not.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 8:57 am
Girl, you did my fantasy. That right there.

I think my problem is I can’t because of the advertisers. And I know I’m not supposed to be beholden to advertisers, but I made a deal with myself a year ago that if I was going to spend time blogging, it would have to be financially worthwhile, it would have to fall underneath my freelancing umbrella. Because I just don’t have the free time, and if I do, well…that’s what journaling is for. So in my case I have to think about them, I HAVE to. I also have Violence UnSilenced now, and I feel like maintaining my regular blog readership is critical to the success of VU. So it’s complicated.

But, still. I’m jealous of what you did.

September 7th, 2009 at 8:25 am
Meg says:

Another commenter wrote about how you were among the first to comment on her own new blog and it thrilled her. You were one of my first readers too, before I had shed my training wheels! That vote of confidence, with a few others I received, convinced me to stay “out there.” So, thank you for that.

I don’t much check my stats because it seems a few posts I did a year ago, with links to other sites, garner most of my hits. I’d be lying to say I don’t still hang on comments – but that’s because I so enjoy the interaction that blogging allows. And I say that even after a post I wrote last week that got picked up and referenced in a local freebie newspaper and resulted in some pretty nasty trolls emerging from under their rocks. The best part about that was watching my other commenters smack ‘em down with logic and reason.

I love this post of yours because, a year and a half into this thing called blogging, I still feel as if mine is evolving. And, so am I.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 9:15 am
What is it about newspaper articles that brings out the trolls? What is it with trolls, anyway? Who has that kind of time/need to make others feel bad? Bizarre.

I’m glad you are evolving, too. It’s such a young medium, and I’m so curious to see where we’re all going.

September 7th, 2009 at 9:10 am
Gentry says:

I really enjoyed your thoughts. Discovered this post via a link from Jen’s Playgroups are not for Children blog.

I am new to blogging. My husband is a tech head and does all of my tech stuff and ads so I can just write (yes, I love him much!).

Just the writing alone is a struggle and a challenge. To know what you want to say–and not be intimidated to say it. When I started blogging I gave myself 2 points. The first was that no one who knows me in my daily life (close friends, family–other than hubby, people in my community) know about this. I do *not* want to feel censored. The second thing was I only wanted to be real, raw, and honest. I do not know who else to be and I can only write about who I am and what I am. Sooo, yes for public consumption…but thankfully I still carry a bit of privacy among my social circles. Now I am just trying to find out, what I am going to do when those “circles” start to discover that I am a blogger…hee hee….well at least I can’t get fired (at least I don’t think my kids will fire me!).

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 6:50 am
That was a great post Jen wrote. Thanks for stopping by!

I think you definitely hit on something there with the intimidation thing. It sounds like that rawness is essential to your work. I hope you are always able to fly under the radar of your real life friends so that this can continue to be so enjoyable for you.

September 7th, 2009 at 11:59 am
anymommy says:

Yeah. Yes. Wow. Yes. Here’s an example right here. I’ve read this post twice. Skimmed the comments. It’s deeply insightful about blogging (all your posts are deeply insightful about their topics) and it has sentence gems. (Burst from the starting gates – you just rock.)

But, I’ve been so busy, my kids are growing, my life moves forward, I drift to the computer, open windows, drift away. Today, I got some time and I thought sigh, it’s too late, it’s irrelevent, she doesn’t need another email. Yet, I’m drawn to participate, to reach out and tell you that I connected with your words. So I comment, for me, dammit

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 6:51 am
Girl, I don’t know how you manage to brush your teeth, let alone open any windows on your computer. Be easy on yourself.

Also? You are never irrelevant to me. Not ever. I get so excited when I see your name in my inbox, and that’s the truth. Ruth.

September 7th, 2009 at 2:43 pm
VDog says:

Beautiful, eloquent writing.

I admit to dropping out and turning off because of The Overwhelming. I simply cannot keep up.

As an English Literature major, one learns that there is always an audience, and that is how I’ve always gone about my work. I know that I want to present something I can be proud of, but sometimes, when I am depressed, that cannot happen.

Sometimes it is too much work to even get the words out because it pains me to publish something that is below my own personal standards.

So I give up. And move on. And read my son a book. Or cook my family dinner.

Then I get my instant gratification on twitter.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 6:52 am
Yes. Yes to everything you said. That is exactly what I do, fall victim to my own standards and stay silent. At least the family benefits.

September 7th, 2009 at 4:52 pm
mrschicken says:

I am feeling every inch of this right now. Every. Inch.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 6:53 am
I often think you and I are on the very same wavelength.

September 7th, 2009 at 6:14 pm
tiff says:

Another here who was thrilled the day you commented on my blog.
I am at the troll stage. After a few nasty comments and then finding that some people are just awful to others, I have had the wind knocked out of me.

Now I run some posts by others first, to make sure I am not being to dramatic or needy or whatever.

I know my writing has changed. I am part of that evolution and I do write for an audience now, as well as for me. I consider how things may come across to others and there are thoughts that I keep to myself now, for fear of backlash.I love the comments and the support when things are terrible. I love the cheering when things are good. It is a form of appreciation in a world where there is little acknowledgement.

My blog started out as nothing but an outlet for postnatal depression but over the years it has become so much more.
Yes, there are negative parts to blogging but there are also amazing things happening every day.

Blogging is still quite new in Australia. It’s kind of bizarre and yet exciting watching it take off, when I have been doing it for longer than most.

I’m not sure where my blog is going. At the moment I love the community feeling but writing, letting go and speaking my mind is becoming harder.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 6:54 am
That’s incredible to me, because I remember commenting on your blog thinking you had a ton of readers and that the last thing you needed was my two cents…. How strange, our own perceptions, eh?

And I agree, for every negative there’s at least one positive and that’s what I’m focusing on. For now, anyway.

September 7th, 2009 at 6:24 pm
Mo says:

Oh my GAWD. I guess I’m predictable after all! I’ve been going through the same transitions, feeling the same things, obsessing over the same things. I really did start my blog to start writing again, to get back into the habit of writing. Everything else was supposed to be gravy after that. But it’s never that simple, is it?

Reading blogs like yours—one of the first ones I’ve ever read—remind me that it’s about being yourself, it’s about the quality of what I put out there, not the quantity, and it’s about the connections and not the stats.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 6:58 am
You’re so right; no, it’s never that simple. Especially when art is involved, I think.

Thank you for what you said. I’ve always hoped that’s what I’m putting out there, even when I doubt myself. And thank you for sticking around as long as you have, and for sending all your friends my way.

September 7th, 2009 at 6:33 pm
Camille says:

I’ve never been anyone’s 196th comment before.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 6:59 am
Holy shit! And I’ve never had a comment from one of my favorite published authors before, so we’re more than even. In fact, I totally win.

Lord. I am completely incapable of not getting all gushy idiot stalker fangirl on you. Dammit.

When do I get to braid your hair?

September 7th, 2009 at 6:52 pm
breanna says:

I TRIED to read every comment, I really did! but I couldn’t, so if I’m super repetitive of other commenters, sorry!

when I started blogging five years ago, it was just fun and silly and pointless in a good way. once I started seeing other blog with loads of dedicated readers, I felt like I should have that. I’m a good writer with a fresh perspective. I’m not “a writer” by profession or aspiration or anything. public speaking is my gig. so anyway, I’ve just gotten so discouraged with all these blogging niches. I don’t fit anywhere!! mommy blogger? I’m a mom, but…what do I know? I’m not wickedly funny or incredibly brilliant or super original. I don’t make awesome crafts or impressive meals or have a solid political p.o.v.

I just really enjoy writing about stuff. normal, everyday, boring-ish stuff. but it seems like that’s not enough. I really do want to know my niche. I want to fit somewhere and develop my voice and make a place for myself. I want to make friends in the blogosphere who will notice when I haven’t tweeted in two days. I want to belong here….but I can’t find a way to do that. I can’t get myself in the door.

so I’m really begining to think there’s not room for all of us around here. I haven’t done any blogging in months. it’s basically a blogging identity crisis!

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 7:03 am
Yes! That was my experience, too. I started out blissfully unaware that there were all these other bloggers out there. I thought I was inventing the wheel or something for my family’s enjoyment. The first time I saw my blog listed in someone else’s blogroll I thought I was being stalked. I thought it was so weird that someone who didn’t know me would read my blog. And it’s like you said, once I saw what was out there it was just like middle school again, where I noticed the cool outfits the other girls were wearing and noticed for the first time how plain I looked. Something like that.

I actually read a lot of people who don’t “fit” into the molds you’ve described, and what they’ve done is stayed so utterly true to themselves that they are their own niches. And that makes them compulsively readable to me.

I absolutely believe there’s room for all of us.

September 7th, 2009 at 7:32 pm
Adventures In Babywearing says:

Dear Maggie, you’ve been reading my secret journal again (the one made of paper, not online.) I could have typed every word.

Word.

Steph

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 7:03 am
Word.

It makes me feel so much better to know the people I admire feel the same way. It really does help. (It’s depressing, but it helps.)

September 7th, 2009 at 7:45 pm
morefutility says:

I came across your blog hoping to be entertained, as it is my cross to bear I suppose (not being able to entertain myself and all), and was shocked to discover that a person could become so wrapped up in blogging so as to lose sleep. I love to read, really I do, but I save the tasty quiet bits of my day for things that require fingers to turn the page. I read blogs for a giggle and a laugh. I do not need my mind opened, closed, or otherwise engaged, (aside from my regular pillaging of local library) though I suppose I should appreciate the effort (now that I know that there has been one put forth). I am sure your post was directed to a more ah…diligent blog reader. I prefer my lofty printed fiction, damn all of us Luddites for being unappreciative.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 8th, 2009 at 7:09 am
Well, see, that’s why it’s so cool that there are so many different types of blogs out there. Something for everyone, right? And nobody makes you read the ones you don’t want to. It’s kind of a perfect system in that way.

I also believe blog reading/writing and book reading/writing should in no way be mutually exclusive. For me, they are completely different formats serving very separate purposes in my life, and I make room for both daily.

September 7th, 2009 at 10:31 pm
No Pasa Nada » Blog Archive » Merrily, lazily says:

[...] you read Maggie’s post? If not you should go read her post and then return here for an insurmountable pile of excuses of [...]

September 8th, 2009 at 4:54 am
MK says:

You are just such a great writer, and I love your small snippets on twitter. And I *may* have a small crush on you and your ability to reach people. Shhhh.

Blogging. It’s way fun for me – it’s an outlet. For all 3 people who read it

Keep it up, dammit. Or not.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 6:37 am
You’re one of my favorite people on Twitter, too. I’m so different on there… like it’s more appropriate to be funny and light there on depressing here, I don’t know. I think about that a lot, that people who know me there might not like me here and vice versa. Anyway, thank you.

September 8th, 2009 at 9:45 am
Validity « Slave to the House says:

[...] 2009 at 2:06 pm (Daily Ramblings, The Good) Tags: total ramble I was reading a blog today over at Okay, Fine, Dammit, and it got me [...]

September 8th, 2009 at 1:43 pm
Jane Gassner says:

Today I was working on the Writing Is A Process post for the MidLifeBloggers Writer’s Workshop. Man, did you hit everything I was stuttering trying to say. Writing is a Process and there is a Product, but when that Product becomes paramount–well, I could get all dramatic and say “we’re doomed.” But in a way, as growing, evolving writers we are. It’s so hard to remember that because we are such a goal-oriented culture.

Whenever you write about blogging, you always are saying stuff that I’m thinking/feeling. So I guess it must be said, along with the others, that I love you.

I’ve pretty much stopped posting on ByJane, which means that my on-the-fly thoughts don’t get said. I miss have that venue, but its time seems over. Blogging is not just a journal anymore for a lot of us. It’s moved beyond the creative writing warm-up into the realm of non-fiction essay. Maybe that’s the change that’s happening.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 6:48 am
Essay is a really good word for it, and I do see that more and more. I see it in structure, and the way people use quotes now to recreate conversations, etc. Essays are excellent creative writing practice, right? I wonder if Erma Bombeck saw her essays as product or process. Or both.

September 8th, 2009 at 2:47 pm
fancy feet says:

Good Lord! Look at all of the comments!

There is really nothing I’m going to say that hasn’t already been said, I’m sure. I mean, look at ALL of the comments! I’ll give it a go though.

I began blogging on a dare and then it became a place to experiment. I was a reluctant writer and wondered if there was anything there worth pursuing. Of course I didn’t write for myself alone. Maybe it was the speaker in me, but there was always an audience in mind. It didn’t have to be a huge audience, but just some people to be there…to take it in or something like that.

Somewhere in there I started to make rules for myself like not writing a post just for the sake of writing a post. I followed blogs that I enjoyed. If I would start to feel a lot of pressure or confusion or regret I would back off. I do enough things that aren’t exactly life-giving and I didn’t want to add another thing to the list. There needs to be some life to this blogging thing or it’s not worth doing. For me, anyway.

I’m not blogging as much these days. It’s summer. That’s my excuse and lately…for better or worse I’ve been watching Felicity on DVD. Don’t judge me. But, when I have so many thoughts that I hardly know what to do with them my blog is a good place to keep them.

This comment is looking like a letter.

One more thing…I ran into this friend of a friend in a tea shop. She came over to my table and whispered that she read my blog like it was a secret. It was adorable and it totally made my day. Maybe that’s why I keep doing it.

xoxo

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 6:51 am
It took me way too long to figure out that I could make my own rules in that way, too, and–more importantly–stick to them. It changed my entire blogging outlook. For a while I even typed them up, printed them out, and had them hanging over my desk. I don’t do that anymore, as they’ve become second nature. Thinking about it, though, my rules have always been about blog-life balance; they’ve never been about what to do once I’m here. Hmmmm. Now I’ve got to go think.

And I would never judge you for Felicity, man. I love me some mindless TV watching.

September 8th, 2009 at 3:42 pm
Jane says:

OMG! You just described me…only I’m just haven’t reached the “buy (y)our own domain” stage yet. I’m new. I’m obsessed. I’m having a blast.

Loved your insight and thoughts on blogging. I try to write for me but you’re right, sometimes I spend too much time worrying if I’m pleasing the “masses.” Ok, I haven’t reached “masses” status yet but that’s what I’m aiming for.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 6:53 am
It’s very, very difficult to not try to please the masses. Very difficult. But if you can do it, I think you’ll find this whole experience more rewarding. Or, who knows–maybe not.

I’m so glad you’re having a blast. That’s the most important thing of all.

September 8th, 2009 at 6:33 pm
blissfully caffeinated says:

Yes. Just yes.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 11:11 am
Heh. Thank you.

September 9th, 2009 at 8:38 am
Miss Britt says:

I do think all writers write for themselves first.

Because you have to. Because you can’t not.

But part of writing is to be read.

It’s like speaking. You speak because you have to say it – AND because you need to be heard.

Also?

Why are you linking to me? I am so confused. I never went anywhere!

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 11:09 am
I linked to you because you are one of the three people (along with Liv and Maria) I emailed way back when because I thought you didn’t love me anymore because you weren’t commenting as much. Don’t you remember? I was so embarrassed afterward. I could probably dig it up again if you want a laugh.

Britt, you are one of the rare bloggers who continues to put it all out there even as your star rises, and I admire that about you. I really do believe you write as much for yourself as for your audience. That you could never do anything differently, and shouldn’t.

Miss Britt Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 11:12 am
he he he – don’t be embarrassed! Better to ask than to wonder or assume!!!

September 9th, 2009 at 10:36 am
Prefers Her Fantasy Life says:

I’ve tried writing for me. But once my teens and their friends discovered my blog, I’ve had to cool it on the cleavage topics.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 9th, 2009 at 11:11 am
That’s the thing, though. Awareness of audience doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I would actually argue that it’s good. It’s when it becomes paralyzing that we have to worry.

September 9th, 2009 at 10:43 am
Don Mills Diva says:

Yes, yes and YES!

I think blogging, particularly parenting blogging, is a trend on its way down. The relentless self-promotion that seems to be requisite has become too, too much.

I have toyed with the idea of closing up shop for a while now but I’m reluctant because I have put in so much effort to get where I am. I have, however, taken a huge step back from the “community”. I have kept up with my loyal friends and readers but everything else is starting to seem a little contrived to me…

Sad but true.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 10th, 2009 at 4:56 pm
Now I want to say yes, yes, and YES to your comment. The idea of closing up shop tortures me. The thought that all I’ve worked for could be so quickly and easily forgotten, just like that. Which in itself should tell me everything I need to know but I’m not ready to hear it.

September 9th, 2009 at 12:10 pm
mamatulip says:

I get this. All of it.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 10th, 2009 at 4:56 pm
I wish that was a good thing, my friend.

September 9th, 2009 at 2:03 pm
180|360 says:

WOW. I came here because Neil spoke so highly of you. Now I can see why! You have summed up the evolution of blogging brilliantly. I’ve only read you once, but I’d like to think that seasoned voices will still keep talking well into veteran states. Happy Birthday!

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 10th, 2009 at 4:56 pm
Thank you for the birthday wishes!

September 9th, 2009 at 10:24 pm
Lil says:

As usual, I had to wait until I was in a suitable frame of mind to fully appreciate and savor another one of your incredibly written posts. I then had to wait until I could form a coherent sentence so as to leave a comment (which, since I work for an accountant and it’s currently the second tax season of the year (and also me being me) is more difficult than one might think).

On the whole writing for yourself versus writing for your readers thing – maybe it’s a bit of both? I started my blog in 2003, after awhile I stepped away for 2 years due to real life being overwhelming and then came back to it last year. For me, writing is a catharsis. I started because a friend told me I should check it out. I signed up for a blog, wrote my first post and was immediately hooked. I love to write but I don’t really think of myself as a writer, per se. It’s like a non-magical pensieve so I don’t have all this clutter beating around my brain. Do the people who read my blog affect my writing? Absolutely. Do they dictate what I write? No, not really. Ultimately, blog writing is about making my insides easier for me to live with and that is something I could never give up. Cheaper than therapy and, to my mind, far more rewarding.

Wherever you write, Maggie, please be kind and tell us. I love your words and how you craft them. To be trite and cliche, I would like nothing more than to be able to write like you when I grow up.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 10th, 2009 at 5:02 pm
This is such a kind comment. Thank you.

I’m glad you’ve found a balance of sorts. That hook, that feeling you felt instantly, is what I’ve been chasing for a while now, I think. Maybe I need to believe in my own evolution more, let go of that initial love and embrace what exists now. I don’t know.

Lil Reply:
September 11th, 2009 at 8:37 am
Kind, schmind – bah. I said what I did about your writing because it’s unequivocally true, not to be nice (but I’ll take the kindness points to my karma score anyway – and you’re more than welcome).

Our entire lives are constant evolution and if we were to stay in one place emotionally, physically, intellectually then we would all be these horrifically stunted creatures flailing about in darkness. Not that flailing about in darkness is always a bad thing….

It boils down to this, as far as I can tell – you’re a writer, Maggie. If you didn’t write here, you’d probably be writing in a journal or creating a book or scribbling on the back of a crumpled envelope you frantically dug out of the bottom of your purse using eyeliner because you couldn’t find a pen so that you don’t lose that thought that just popped into your head. Maybe stop analyzing and beating yourself up over why your write and how it’s received and just let the wonder flow out of your soul and know that there are so many of us out here who truly appreciate and love your words.

September 10th, 2009 at 8:40 am
K T Cat says:

Very nice post. I like your writing style. Each paragraph drew me into the next one. That’s unusual for such a long post for me.

On my own blog, I’ve discovered that I write to develop my own thought processes and codify what I think. I stopped sweating traffic and comments a long time ago.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 10th, 2009 at 5:03 pm
Well, if it helps, I rarely write posts this long.

I’m so glad you don’t sweat traffic, comments, etc. That really is the key.

September 10th, 2009 at 4:27 pm
Fragrant Liar says:

. . . And then you take a chance, leaving an innocuous comment in one well-loved blogger’s box and wonder if it will mean anything or ever be reciprocated . . .

But it matters not, as I enjoy coming here and reading your always poignant and resonant words before going back to my own blog with the motivation to write more and better. And that’s worth more than the blog stats.

maggie, dammit Reply:
September 10th, 2009 at 7:21 pm
I can’t speak for other bloggers, and I realize it’s probably not cool to admit it publicly, but every single comment means something to me. There is no such thing as an innocuous one. I get to know the names (even when I can’t know the accompanying lives) and I notice when they aren’t there. And I worry. And then I get mad at myself for worrying because I know I probably can’t reciprocate so what do I expect? And I worry further about what they’ll think of me. This is about the time my rational voice steps in to tell me to knock it the hell off, but she’s usually no match for the gaggle of older, more established mean-girl voices in my head.

In other words, thank you. For real.

September 10th, 2009 at 7:00 pm
Colleen - Mommy Always Wins says:

Wow. Well said.

September 11th, 2009 at 10:08 am
Carmen says:

Well said! I was going to write a post entitled “So You Want to be a Blogger” but I think you’ve said everything I was going to, and so much better than I could, so I may just direct everyone (my 3 faithful readers!) here, with a “what she said” comment!
I found your blog through Five Star Fridays, by the way. It’s really quite wonderful and I look forward to reading some of your other posts.

September 11th, 2009 at 4:17 pm
starrlife says:

Okay- over 200 comments? Is that enough validation?
I am in the don’t do twitter, facebook or any of that other small talk stuff ( I hate small talk). Don’t do ads or even search engines. And when someone I follow dies, stops writing, closes shop and moves away- I am crushed, devastated – I comment on their blog every few months like a stray cat waiting for a meal at a locked door! Do I write for myself- you betcha but not for my private enjoyment like a journal. More like a conversation, like pen pals. Perhaps it’s a longing for the old days of writing letters cross Atlantic or something. Or perhaps closer to small boxes full of little gifts- pics and thoughts and cookies…. any wine over there? Love your writing- can’t always comment but always read.Sorry I’m late to the party-always on the outside looking in.

September 12th, 2009 at 1:42 am
sweetney says:

I can’t even begin to read all of those comments, won’t try, so pardon me if I’m just repeating things 50 other people have said before me.

To the point: you are right. We do all go through exactly what you’ve said. Some of us go through more. I’ve been through what can only be described as The Wringer, more than once, over the years. I don’t think it’s made me stronger. I think it’s forced me to grow armor. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing anymore, though some would say so. Now it’s just a fact of my life.

For me, the ultimate truth is that I love to write and I need to write. That I do it on my blog is 5 years worth of habit. It feels like my home. It feels like my home even when villagers with torches break down the door and start rudely rifling through my things. It is now, more than it’s ever been, NOT about pleasing others. I think that’s what’s meant about writing for yourself. Clearly we all write to be read, clearly we want to have or enjoy having an audience. But I do write now to please myself, to make myself proud, to feel when I’m done with a post that I’ve articulated something in just the right way, in a way befitting the complexity and joy and heartbreak of my own experience of life. That I’ve been able to put down in language something that resonates beyond words — to me, that is the goal, though it might sound corny. I don’t believe there’s a single, capital T Truth, I do think it’s all subjective and individual. But there are deeper truths in everyone’s experience of life, even in just small moments. that’s what I’m trying to get at. That’s all there is. For me.

I am also less embroiled in the politics and cliques and all of that than I have ever been. In fact, I feel distinctly outside of all of that. I have no clique, no entourage — I have individual friendships with individual people. I haven’t the slightest clue as to who is friends and who is not friends with whom, where the drama and tension is, what the simmering conflicts are. I am blissfully ignorant, and interact with everyone individually, in the moment, as who they are (or present themselves to be… because who knows, right?). I don’t read into things. I don’t assume things.

I don’t pour over my stats. I ignore the haters. It’s taken me, literally, YEARS to get here. To get to okay. I don’t think there’s a roadmap. I took some good advice and followed my gut. That’s it. You’ll do the same, and you’ll find your way.

Least helpful comment ever, sorry. I’ve babbled too much. The offer to chat anytime still stands, but I think you have an army of support here and probably don’t need my blathering added to that. xo

September 12th, 2009 at 8:33 am
Where ya been? « The Search For ME says:

[...] of other bloggers, who wrote fantastic posts that reignited my desire to blog. Go read, “Evolution of a Blogger” at http://www.okayfinedammit.com and also “There Once was a Blogger from Nantucket” at [...]

September 12th, 2009 at 2:15 pm
blues says:

I don’t blog for me. I blog for the others out there, those wonderful talented eyes that I fear I don’t measure up to most of the time. And so, because I don’t have the right thing to give them, I keep my words hidden, because they just don’t cut the mustard.

September 13th, 2009 at 2:45 pm
blues says:

I mean, I don’t post often because I don’t feel like I have anything good enough to put out there. And the longer I don’t post, the more pressure I feel. It’s weird. I wish I could write freer. Or for me. Because I do love it.

September 13th, 2009 at 2:46 pm
Erika says:

As the 251st (1) commenter on this post, I don’t think I need to tell you that this is brilliantly spot on.

Erika Reply:
September 13th, 2009 at 5:59 pm
But I did anyway.

September 13th, 2009 at 5:52 pm
Robin ~All Things Heart and Home says:

Love this post. ‘nough said.
Robin
All Things Heart and Home

September 14th, 2009 at 4:35 am
mb says:

when will i identify as a blogger? almost 5 years now i have never done any of the things you mention because i NEVER will really admit I am a blogger. I say: I am a writer who happens to blog but. that that doesn’t make any sense, does it?

i have often wanted to just hit delete and decide to become a Real Writer. Whatever. I am a mother who has no other public outlet for writing at this moment so I have to admitt the medium is what it is and it really is it’s own thing.

love you everytime i come here.

mb

September 16th, 2009 at 10:39 pm
Aidan Donnelley Rowley says:

As a rookie in the blogosphere, this post is at once insightful and alarming. I hate the idea that “Write for me” is a fallacy. I hate the idea that blogging = branding & packaging. I hope that this is not necessarily the case, but I suspect that it is. Do we ever really write just for ourselves? I don’t know.

September 17th, 2009 at 11:15 am
Karen MEG says:

Maggie, you have got to get out of my head… or at least leave some of your brilliant words in there, my friend.

My blog arteries are indeed hardening, and I’m getting tired and old. I wish I could keep it up, but after 4 years, and the “me” who is actually changing at rapido speed lately, I’m questioning who I am writing for and the true value of my blog. I’ve resorted to doing memes just to keep up, and posting godawful pictures of myself. I look back at some of my older posts and think “wow, I could really write, what the hell happened?”. So yeah, what to do.

But I keep, keep getting drawn back to the brilliance of the writing and community and the friends that I can visit when I get a chance to breathe. And what a breath this is.

Thanks, sweetie.

September 18th, 2009 at 5:57 am
Tina says:

WOW! That was so well written. I am still in the honeymoon – blogspot phase of blogging. I just cold resonate so well with what you wrote. I think this is my first time to your site. I will be back!

September 18th, 2009 at 1:37 pm
Becky says:

Wow, I just found your blog today and subscribed. This is one of the posts in my reader and you just blow me away.

I started at blogspot when it was Blogger. I moved to WordPress.org, and then in an attempt to hide from my ex husband, bought my own domain. It didn’t work.

But it made me feel as if my blog was real and that it had some merit (even if only in my head). I used to obsess over my stats, add every newfangled widget to my blog. Then I realized that was more stress than what I started blogging for.

So I write for me, and I am aware of the readers. It is no longer a journal of my day to day life, but a place for me to stretch my writer’s wings and see if I am any good at it.

September 23rd, 2009 at 2:30 pm
Amysprite says:

Breaks are good. Balance is good. We can only do so much! (And this post is making me feel anxious for not doing all that stuff you said! My stats are completely wrecked from my extended break, but I can only do what I can do, right?)

September 25th, 2009 at 4:34 pm
rubytwoshoes says:

Great. This is just depressing. I have just started blogging. Was looking around, following a few links, and this is where I landed. If I wasnt feeling scared and overwhelmed when I hit publish on my first post, I sure as hell am now! Stats?! Links?! Audience?! Advertisiing?! Design?! Shit damn, I just hope someone reads it occasionally, but thanks for the great, well written, insight

October 2nd, 2009 at 6:27 pm

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