Someone recently asked me about my reasons for writing a blog. Was I honing my writing skills? (Absolutely) Looking to find fame and fortune on the internet? (Yes, please) or promoting some product or service? (Not that I know of)
They expressed great concern and discomfort about the fact that I was opening up some pretty emotionally charged areas of my personal life to very public scrutiny. They said, without a doubt, that they themselves could not do what I, and so many other bloggers do.
I don’t know if I’m brave, stupid, naive or some kind of combination of the three, but I don’t have any particular feeling towards my readership. In fact, I’m only really concerned with more eyeballs reading the site, regardless of who they are.
Sure, I follow all the blog caveats: don’t trash your employer; don’t hate on your family/friends (if they read your blog); etc. But my inspiration comes from within and I write for an idealized audience, the audience in my mind who laughs at all my jokes and draws inspiration from all my aphorisms.
I guess that doesn’t even come close to answering this mystery person’s question. I write of myself, by myself, for myself. I post to the internet via my blog so that my experiences become part of the shared experience we call life. That’s really hokey and Jungian, but I think it really does hold water. If I can connect, through my writing, to one person, the experiment has succeeded.
Hell, even if I’m the only one who reads this, the chances of it surviving for posterity’s sake are far better than any paper diary.