Just a few hours at BlogHer ’12 was enough to remind me what blogging is about for me. Don’t care much about SEO or Google Analytics on the one hand; don’t care much about brands on the other. No, for me, it’s all about the writing. Obviously.
The big surprise came later, during a Writing Lab session on The Voice of the Essayist with Polly Pagenhart. The discussion turned to the essay as a long form, and I started to feel … anxious. Exhausted.
All this time I thought I wanted to write essays alongside my poems! Apparently not — or, at least, apparently not now.
Apparently, what I want to write is blog posts. Just one idea, stated clearly, possibly even beautifully. Who knew?
But there’s more …
From my journal, Tuesday, August 7, 2012 — Were there cicadas whirring, crickets chirping, birds twittering as I nursed a restless Gnome to sleep last night? I don’t remember.
I remember only a moment of letting go of my planning planning planning, a moment of settling into — well, fear. Fear that what was there was barely there: the August evening, my baby’s dimpled knuckles and fat wrists.
And I can’t help myself, I keep thinking about how much easier everything will be when my baby is two years old, big enough for a couple three days of day care, and I won’t need to rely so much on late nights for getting the work done.
I can’t help myself, and yet I’m also sad that I don’t remember anymore what it’s like to be pregnant — the word placenta alone fills me with sorrow — and soon I will have no baby, but a boy —
I love the immediacy of the form, that by writing here I can join in on a conversation about mothering, about working, about making art — about figuring out how we ought to live in this hot and crowded twenty-first century.
Why do you blog? Please share — either via the comments, or by linking up a post, old or new.