I had a billion things jingling and jangling through my head today and I wanted to write about how I am sick of summer fruits (sssshhh!), gluten-free doughnuts (zzzZzzz), three really excellent emails I got this week (shhhh), amores perros (it does not matter what I think of a 7yo movie!) & Mexican cinema (more zzZZZZzzz), and Mari's sartorial splendor (zZzzzzZZ) but I felt really unsure about how to make anything GO, especially with all the dissonant photographs I had to anchor the way-too-busy week and also my surly countenance of late and then I saw this over at glittergoods and thought about how I could stand to stand my ground a little about what I am supposed to be writing about, really.
This morning, if Mari had asked, "What is the purpose of your weblog, Femme?" I would have said, "To document my crafts and those of the children!" Then mid-morning I sent an email to a long-lost, fondly-regarded acquaintance and I described it as something entirely different, which after answering these questions, it looks like it actually is.
1. Do you promote your blog?
No. I am probably the Emily Dickinson of the weblog-writing world. I think writing a weblog is like being the girl who puts out -- the people you want know who you are & beat a path to yr door, there is no need to blabber.
If I knew that I had An Audience, the whole thing would feel like work to me, anyhow. But, I pretty much try to walk a line between not being inviting in my narration and not excluding anyone who stumbles upon this & wants to keep up, for whatever reason. It is not a secret, but I am neither pimping myself. There are links in the world. There is a feed. There is google, uh, harvesting?
I guess when I have seen the conversational back-and-forth or (sometimes) the needy, harrassing solicitations some weblog writers get into with the You of the The Audience in the meat of the meta, it does not appeal to me. Because next thing, someone says, "Bah" when they should have said, "Boo" and then it is all, "You're mean, reader!" But, who was all "Read me! Read me!," hmm? Also, the cross-talk? Between non-authorial writers in comments sections? Discussing controversial topics? (Meli once linked me to a blow job one that went on for weeks and weeks and weeks of fisticuffs) Fuck that shit. Go to a bulletin board, already. Or don't, like Alex says.
2. How often do you check hits?
Weekly or such -- as often as I update. I enjoy seeing which depraved google search terms hooked up with the search engine's malapropist to deliver the wrong traffic. Which is another reason I do not promote: I have seen the inner desires of these people on the onlines & what they seek. Yikes.
3. Do you stick to one topic?
A roman-fleuve is a chronicle of a family over time & I deliver what I promise, through my own
selfish lens.
4. Who knows that you have a blog?
Pretty much anyone who knows my maiden name has a free pass to it, should it come up. Usually it happens that I have been minding my own business about it and someone (in the know) will say, "Oh, I wish I had more time to talk about that project you worked on" or "I really miss yr writing, will you ever again," or something else of the kind of deep, connective baloney none of us have time for any longer, what since we have eighty billion children and 160 spouses among us, plus all the miles. Then I will sort of shyly confess it. But, really, whatever. Also, anyone I know who has a weblog themselves, because I feel that it is only fair. Even if they do not read it.
5. How many blogs do you read?
The ones on the left. Mostly, they are people I know or have had some meaningful offline contact with.
6. Are you a fast reader?
Yes. I have also turned into an internet skimmer, since I realized that very many people fail to use their close-reading skills on the onlines, plus rely v heavily on their projector to light up what they are necessarily missing.
7. Do you customize your blog or do anything technical?
I have an extra page full of Garçon's non-text books for his continuing educational advancement. I have the typelist of tiny book reviews. I was thinking of a banner, but I have too much knitting to get crafty with pixels.
8. Do you blog anonymously?
Yes. I have changed everyone's name and been cagey about all the rest. I make liberal use of red herrings. I am tight-lipped, but not secretive, about where we live, as it surely is no secret to anyone reading who knows of our town.
9. To what extent do you censor yourself?
I keep foremost in my mind that anyone in the world can read this, without my permission or knowledge and without leaving a trace. Within those boundaries, I think that what I write is fairly confessional, in my own coy way. Because traffic way outpaces the population I know to be reading -- and because of some emails I have gotten from people reading of whom I have not heretofore known -- I think the whole narrative has this very lurid quality to it that keeps readers quiet, lest I realize I have company & bolt. It is probably a voyeur's paradise.
10. The best thing about blogging?
I get to put it out of my head. Also, when I feel like I am getting nothing done, it is all in down for the ages -- the books I read, the books I read to the children, how many holiday gifts I knitted, over which ennui I prevailed.
Also, it serves as a supplemental text for my dearest friendships. I mean, there is no way that -- for example -- the Israeli and I are ever going to get around to a meaningful discussion about Kershaw's last book or about my stomachaches over ballet school, what with the kindergarteners on crack racing around behind us in our respective homes and the trying to sort conversational triage on the topics front and center -- our spouses, current events, the chicken pox, parents in health crises. This way, he can sneak in late at night and then send me an email that says, "You are so weird -- cumbia. Plus, why didn't you bring the whole case up that time? Don't hold out on me, cookie!" If Fillette or Garçon do a piece of something that is exciting, I can photograph it and then say to Meli or Chickie, "oh, cute mermaid drawing. check it at the weblog."
Mari gets to check in on our days while he is away. I can go back and check on the details of past projects or yarn I used or dates of germination or whatever. Also, I cannot be coy about this -- it forces me to write, which is the thing that I do. It will always be satisfying to me to distill a swirl in my mind down to its nugget of conflict, then dispatch it into the ether, a contained thing, a memory.
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