To blog or not to blog…
That is the question I have been stewing over for some time now. What am I afraid of? The “slings and arrows?” “The insolence of office and the spurns?” “The heartache and the thousand shocks?” Or just plain making a fool of myself? “Fools names and fools faces always show up in public places.” One of my reticent Midwestern relatives used to quote that. As opposed to my not-reticent East Coast relatives who would laminate and post on the bulletin board any clipping that named anyone they were remotely acquainted with.
I am a writer. They tell me I must have a “platform.” Why does that always make me think of tap dancing? Or train stations. Maybe tap dancing at the train station. Look at me: tippity, tap, tap. Here I am.
As a writer, you want people to read what you’ve written. There’s no point in pecking away in your lonely garret, letting the pages pile up unread until it’s time for the shredder. Except I’m living in Southern California at the moment. No garrets here. I do have a shredder though.
And stealing a few more words from poor old Hamlet, when I “have shuffled off this mortal coil,” these words will continue to swirl around the cyberclutter like so much space junk. That’s a comfort. I think.
Until then, I need a place to put this stuff. So here goes. Be gentle, please.
[Photo: Jesse Bailey]