I’m Blogging This all Wrong!

So, as I have pointed out in the past, I am always one step behind the rest of the civilized world in terms of fads, styles, and “what’s hot.”  I am still not entirely sure what an iPad is, let alone an iPad2 or an iPad3.  That being said, it turns out that no one let me in on the secret that I am supposed to be blogging in order to build an audience and someday sign a book deal.  Hell, I thought blogging was just an online way of keeping a diary.  Honestly, while I know all of this is open to public view, I hadn’t given much thought to having a following.  That is until I discovered I have seven, yes, seven followers.  There are seven people in this world whom I have never met and yet have an interest in what I scribble here.  It makes me worry that I should focus a little more on my grammar.

Not only should I be working on penning a book deal, but I should have a dedicated focus, rather than just babbling on and on about whatever crosses my mind on an overcast Saturday.  I suppose my title, 30 Years and Counting, suggests I should be focusing on my life from this moment forward, but what if I feel like discussing the past, as I plan on doing right now?

The thing I find interesting about my discovery regarding blogging is that not so long ago, I had indeed given thoughts to publishing, well, something.  About five years ago, I gave myself the goal of being published by age 30.  As it turns out, it’s a lot harder to be published than you might think, and when your draft doesn’t make it past the smirks of your best friends, humility prevents you from taking it any farther than a spiral bound copy from Staples that now lives somewhere buried in a closet, possibly beneath an old baseball glove. That was the last attempt I made at published writing, however, I have always been a writer, even during my youth.  I don’t mean a writer in a published sense of course.  You know, like where you get paid.  No, I have always just written for myself.  Way back when, I was given an assignment to keep a journal.  I was probably eight years old.  While the other students could barely form sentences, I was filling out pages and pages of those old black and white composition books.

Long after the assignment was finished, I continued writing.  I would sit in my bedroom and scratch out the details of my life as an eight year old.  I actually continued with it until sometime into middle school, that age where worrying about what others may think about you supersedes the psychological benefits of getting your thoughts down on paper.  The notebook was hidden away and eventually destroyed.  I don’t mean it burned in an unfortunate house fire or that I tore it up page by page, rather I tossed it in the garbage one afternoon.  Now I suppose it is entirely possible some garbage hunting vagabond discovered my personal treasure and could be holding onto it, waiting for the day I become an international celebrity so that he can reveal, for quite a hefty sum of money, my inner most private thoughts as an eight year old.  Then again, I am left handed with bad penmanship.  It’s doubtful it was even legible.

Years went by before I decided to once again chronicle my thoughts.  I heard about a number of sites that offered free online journals, so I would poke around on them, making up user names and usually writing an about me page followed by nothing of any interest.  Was my life really that drab, or was it just writers block?  In any case, I hadn’t given much thought to the idea that anyone else would read what I wrote, nor would they be interested enough to comment on it.  While I still harbor my feelings for privacy, I am aware that these entries can be seen by anyone who wants to see it, but until I saw I had followers, I doubted anyone had ever stumbled across this page.  It makes me wonder how private I really want to be?

I am a very quiet person by nature.  I use blogging as an outlet for my thoughts on what I do throughout my life.  For me, blogging began as a way to improve my Spanish. I only added this page when I discovered that sometimes I needed to vent in English.  It took me entirely by surprise when a total stranger commented on what I had to say.  Sure, now that the seed has been planted in the back of my mind, I feel like I am writing to an audience rather than to myself and I start to wonder, “Should I pull that draft out of my closet and revise it?”

For now, I think I will just continue to put my thoughts down and see where it goes.  But, if you’re out there reading this and it makes you smile or brings back a memory of your childhood, or even pisses you off enough that you want to send me an angry comment, feel free.  It’s nice to know there are people out there.

~ by James on March 17, 2012.