Who Do I Write For? Who Do You Write For?
I am writing this as one of my blogs crashes for some reason. Where did everyone go? I don’t know but it brings up the question of why some of us do this every day. Are we writing for an audience that may not show up tomorrow? I wish I knew why you write. Here is why I spend hours doing this.
One. I write for me. It helps me to be creative and expressive. I feel happier. Being an introvert in person tends to cause frustration on some level. Besides, who knows what I might discover about myself? And, yes, that is a scary thought.
Two. I write for my family. We are strung out all over the place. It is possible that they read what goes on here and discover what Beth and I are up to on a regular basis. If not for this blog we would communicate once in awhile and much would be left out. I love them and want to share my life with them. Hopefully, they feel the same.
Three. I write for my friends. Those friends I have and those who are yet undiscovered (unknown readers are friends because I’m an optimist). What a goldmine of friendship there is out here! In just a short while I have been amazed at how many folks are genuinely wonderful people who actually enjoy hanging out. I look forward to reading about about their exploits. And their thoughts find an accompanying chord within my soul. I don’t believe you can really decide to be friends with someone. It just happens. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for someone with whom the bell does not chime. Because they are important, too.
Four. These are casual acquaintances. Maybe I don’t agree with the things they say. Maybe I feel like they have just a moment to spare and not much change. But they are courteous and intelligent fellow human beings. They want to exchange something. Or talk about the weather. Maybe someday I will suddenly have a glimpse of them as they really are and understand what their friends see in them. They could become a friend someday. So blogging offers this. It’s like getting married and meeting a relative on the wife’s side of the family. You get to see them once in awhile. Eventually they become comfortable like a shoe that used to hurt a little.
Five. People who don’t like me. I found someone on the Facebook the other day who I went to middle school with in 1962 or thereabouts. I got all excited and sent them a message and a friend request. Also sent a link to this blog. There was or is no bad blood with this person that I can remember. I was excited because we had a small class and there is no one else from this town in my era who has signed up in Facebook. And what did I hear back? You guessed it. No Thing. Na Da.
So these are the people I write for last of all. Because I have always been very quiet when confronted with someone who didn’t have the time or the patience to understand or know me. I didn’t want to say something that would meet with their disapproval. There was always at least one in every class I ever took. So I spent years going to class and saying very little. Asking few questions. Giving few opinions. I write for these people now last of all.
Those days are over.
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