About a year ago, I decided that I’d had enough of bad news. Not like news-worthy bad news, just bad news like:
- sorry, you didn’t get the job
- nice book proposal, but we can’t publish it because you are not famous
- no, we don’t want to run that article
and so on. Minor bad news, news that’s only bad for writers who have this nagging urge to have someone read what they have written.
And then, I realized that I was six or twelve years behind the times.
I realized, I can make my own good news.
And so this blog was born. I’ve tried to post something–even if only an image or a list–every day, and doing so has been more helpful than I thought possible. Knowing that someone would be reading (even if only my mom and my husband) kept me writing, and doing it every day, well, kept me doing it every day. Regularly. Which makes writing easier. I’ve never been one to consistently keep much of a journal, bit knowing that, say, Nancy V. would be reading? That kept me writing.
There’s one other thing: blogging can be an exercise in paying attention. It makes me ask, as I go around living and breathing and reading and eating:
- what is interesting/beautiful/ugly/strange about this?
and in asking questions
- why does this book/object/article/idea call forth such a strong response from me?
and even in something like empathy
- how might other people hear/interpret this? will it make sense? will it encourage people? what will it do?
So I have to say, friends, that I am grateful for your gentle readership. Thank you for your comments and your emails–I read and treasure each one.
Having the chance to write–and to be read–every day!–has become good news enough for me.