I have not, to this point, shared the URL or web address, or mentioned the existence of these writings to anyone other than my spouse. I suppose that normally when one creates a website, one seeks to encourage as many people to read it as possible, and therefore one invites all one's friends to see the page, posts links to it on other people's sites, and basically promotes the hell out of it until it establishes a regular and consistent readership.
Granted, I am only a week in, but I have not done any of these things yet, and frankly at this point, do not expect to. Which begs the question, why not? Why write if I have no intention for anyone to read? Is this the equivalent of a typed diary? If so, why post it on the Internet? Do I hope that people are going to simply stumble across this page and be so entranced with my incredible writing skills that they will bookmark it and come back day after day? If so, where did I get such an arrogant and at the same time naive idea?
Part of the answer as to why I have not publicized this page comes from yesterday's post (the one directly below this one), which is that if I publicized the page to my friends, that would really take away the anonymity of it. It's hard to maintain a pretense of anonymity and then tell your parents that you are writing a website. "Oh Mom, Dad, let me tell you about this great website I 'found,' here's the address, and oh yes, the author does seem to superficially resemble me, but pay no mind to that."
Also, by inviting people to read my website, I would be presuming their interest in my life or at least in my thoughts (since so far this website deals very little with my actual life, but deals a great amount with the meta-level discussion of what I want these writings to be). At this point, I cannot claim that there is much on this site that is of any interest to anyone, other than myself.
Extending that thought a little bit, there is as yet no subject that these writings are devoted to, that would make it easy for me to send a link and say "here's a new blog about ______," filling in the blank with whatever subject is my area of expertise or interest. For one thing, my areas of interest are relatively broad, while my areas of expertise are either non-existent or uninteresting. I am greatly interested in baseball, for example, and the few blogs I frequent tend to be baseball-related. However, as an interested outsider, I do not see where I can really contribute any more than the already extant blogs by interested outsiders. Perhaps I might have ideas here and there that merit publishing, and if so they will certainly appear in this space, but I do not see myself having original content for 365 days of writing about baseball, at least, not writing that would add anything to the plethora of writing that already exists on the subject.
On the other hand, the ins and outs of my job, which I know quite well, are so specific that I doubt anyone other than a handful of people out there really care. I care, quite a bit, so I expect several days will consist of me writing about my work, but again, it isn't exactly a subject that people are rushing to read blogs about.
Which brings us to another point: I have to this point studiously avoided calling this website a blog, referring to it variously as a website or as my writings, depending on what the context called for. I have even gone so far as to title the website "Ce n'est pas un blog," a reference to the Rene Magritte painting "Ce n'est pas un pipe" or "This is not a pipe." The painting was of a pipe, but as Magritte was so cleverly and accurately pointing out, the painting was not in fact a pipe, but was instead a painting, a representation of a pipe.
I am not nearly so clever or so accurate. For one thing, I have established these writings on blogger, which would seem to qualify it as a blog, my title notwithstanding. For another, what constitutes a blog is so ill-defined and so flexible that any informal series of web postings would seem to meet the criteria, and my writings so far are certainly an informal series of web postings. Furthermore, unlike many in the more mainstream media who seem to scoff at the concept of "bloggers," I have no qualms with blogs or bloggers. I frequent a few blogs, namely:
http://www.aarongleeman.com
http://joeposnanski.com/joeblog
http://www.ranyontheroyals.com
http://www.bucsdugout.com
Like I said, they are almost entirely baseball sites. I have no problem reading them and the amount and quality of content at those blogs exceeds much of what is in the mainstream press (or at least, much of what is in the lowest-common-denominator mainstream press, the MLB.com, AOL.com, equivalent. Slate.com, though not a blog and definitely mainstream, has very high quality work (although to be honest, I haven't read any articles there since September, and the blogs on the site were less interesting than the journalism on the site).
Successful blogs seem to have at least one or two things going for them. They are either devoted to a singular specific subject that also interests a number of other people, or the life of the person writing them is of sufficient interest that people will tune in voyeuristically to read of it. One of those two things, and high-quality writing of course.
At a Ben Folds performance at the Beacon Theater a few years ago, Ben (introducing "Army") described his songwriting process as the "American" style of songwriting - take something that has happened to you, write it down, and put it to music. This is typical not just of American songwriting, but of American blog-writing. Here's something that happened to me. Here's something I believe. Here are pictures I took. Put it out on the Internet and invite people to read it.
This type of process requires that the writer have a very high opinion of the interest of his or her life. Think of the self-consciousness that such writing requires, and the self-centeredness that those writers possess, believing that their lives merit an audience. I, too, used to be so self-centered. When I was in middle school, 6th or 7th grade, I used to wish that a video-camera could be placed in my eyes, to see what I saw, while a narrator read the thoughts that flew through my mind. At the time, I believed that it would be so interesting, dramatic, epic even. Those thoughts were the same type of thoughts that inspire people to appear on reality TV shows, I'm sure. And undoubtedly, the same thoughts have inspired many blogs.
I no longer feel that way about myself. Reality television has ruined it, perhaps, or perhaps as I have aged, my life seems much less interesting. Perhaps it is less interesting. Certainly when I was 13, I imagined I would do much more exciting things than I heretofore have. In any case, that exhibitionist, self-aggrandizing quality is not, I don't believe, the underlying reason for me beginning these writings. And for this, and other reasons, I am choosing not to think of this as a blog, even though, as I suggested earlier, it undoubtedly qualifies as such.
But all of the above stills says little about the purported purpose of these writings, and of posting them on a website.
I am writing this not to entertain my friends, not to inform or impress some random readers on any particular subject. I am writing this for me, and for me alone. I am writing because, as I said in my first post, I need to write and more specifically, need to think. While I may no longer believe that my life is a fitting subject for an epic, I apparently still think my thoughts are worthy of further inspection. But thoughts run through ones mind faster than anyone can grasp them, and it takes putting them on paper, exposing them to the light of day, to really examine them, to really elucidate them, further them.
So these writings are for my benefit. If anyone else enjoys them, benefits from them; if you enjoy or benefit from them, then good for you; good for them.