Why Blogging Will Never Be Dead

Someone told me recently that blogging was dead and there was no point to having a website with a blog attached. I was sad to hear this news because it makes a person feel idiotic to be keeping up with something that is considered obsolete. 

Ok. I’m obsolete. Thing is, I like blogging. Blogging is fun. You should try it if you like to write. Know why? Because your thoughts and ideas are completely useless if they’re shoved in a drawer. What’s the point of writing something if nobody is going to read it? Stop being such a selfish pre-schooler and share. 

I’m being facetious. If it makes you feel good to whisper your secrets into a padlocked notebook, then I applaud you. In fact, I celebrate any kind of story carving, whatever the form. But please, if you can handle it, if you can suffer the shame of disclosure, tell us your story and affix it somewhere public. It’s the writing that connects us, you see. You tell a story, I tell you a story back, and we see where our respective experiences collide. It’s only at the intersection of human vulnerability that things really start to cook. After all, how many of us have had something that made us feel anxious or insular, only to be assuaged by the soothing words of someone who has experienced a similar discomfort. 

(I will never forget the day, for example, that I learned there was another person in the world that was willing to speak publicly about their anal fissure. That’s a story for another day, but let’s just say that I was in so much pain that I developed a whole anonymous website around the need to talk about my ass. That website is called fromthefilesofAlanaFischer.com and you’d be surprised how many subscribers I got to that site. I had to take it down, though, because it offended too many people and uprooted the internet.)  

I started my website in 2013 and posted pretty frequently for a while, but then my twins caught up to me and I stopped writing, which was foolish. I’m a writer, and writers write. If a writer doesn’t write, then she will revert to other forms of comfort, like seven pints of ice cream before breakfast or a steadfast commitment to never brushing one’s hair.

I also stopped writing because I got sad. There was depression, mild hysteria, salted caramels. 

I found my way back, though, thanks to psychotropic drugs, a nutritionist named Mela Stevens, and writing. All roads return to writing.

I don’t care that blogs are dead or dying or that websites are now only for entrepreneurs interested in teaching you how to make money online. I don’t care that I have no so-called “unique selling proposition,” and while I’m thrilled if you sign on to my site to read more of me, I’m also fine if you want to back away from my website slowly, as if you were about to get charged by a bear. Whether you are here or not, I’m going to write, and I’m going to suction myself like a giant, Jewish, homosexual contact lense to your unsuspecting public eyeball. While you read me, I’m the scary prism through which you see the world. 

I am so grateful that the internet, with all its shortcomings, has come into being. Sure, we all have to be a little more protective of our off-screen time, but nothing has connected us to each other as much as the internet. The thing I hated about being a writer was that I’d put my stuff out to a nameless, faceless monolith, and then once it was out, I’d have to go back into the cave and start all over again. Alone. 

Blogging has changed that. And what is a blog, anyway, but a public diary, a story, a moment, a sketch. That’s not going to die. If the internet explodes and we all go back to the caves, I’ll be the first to scrape a sentence into the dirt. And I’ll hope you read my sentence, too, because that might mean you’ll write a sentence back. Or maybe even a whole bunch of sentences. Sentences = connection. Writing on the cave walls was texting for neanderthals, and spears and mammoths were the original emojis. 

Talk to me. What authors did you read that brought you out of isolation? For me it was Katherine Paterson, Judy Blume, Zora Neal Hurston, Virginia Woolf.  

Start a website and write your blog. Tell your secrets. Keep your ugly, un-tweaked website. Don’t make the internet all slick and shiny. Tell me some stuff. The word blog might someday be obsolete, but the arc of the human condition will never fade. As long as there are people, there will be stories. 

So tell me some.  

 

Comments

  1. Karen Pearson says:

    Thank God your writing again! I run with open arms to your blog.

    • Thanks for reading, Karen. I’ve missed writing enormously, but the kids really had to get back to school before I could work with any focus. What are you working on? Blog? Photobook? What’s your project?

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