What’s Blogging Worth?
Question: what kind of bear is best?
No, that’s not it–been watching too much of The Office. Here’s the question:
When wife comes home from work and asks “what did you get done today?” does writing two blog posts count as getting anything done? Do I feel better about it if I tell her I generated two “multimedia journal entries”? BLOG sounds so juvenile and trivial.
So does the validity of the answer to my question (not the one about the bears) depend on some external standard for grammar, literary content or photographic merit? Or does it come from the value of the time spent and the feel and sense of the post just to ME? Is blogging a worthy way to spend time if it’s only good for the blogger?
To answer my own question, there are days (over the past six years of it) when blogging pretty much amounts to doing nothing. And there are days when my post or posts contribute in some gratifying and sustaining way towards what passes–if your standards are low enough–as a “body of work”. Parochial folk writing, ruminative rambles, trivial or esoteric vignettes though they may be–the daily fragments say something about who I am (or one day, who I was), what’s curious, perplexing or significant to me as that focus morphs over time. Blogging as personal archive and legacy?
I try generally to NOT post on a given day (increasingly common) if what I would say has absolutely NO value for some of my imagined and known readers. Sometimes I fall short of that caveat and blog because it’s there. The cup of coffee, the empty screen and welcoming keyboard, the illusion that there’s somebody out there–how can I keep from blogging? (Apologies to Mr. Seeger who recently co-opted one of my favorite old hymns (midi warning) for a radio series and book. But that’s another blog post.)
Sometimes in my undisciplined early morning junk drawer exposure to the blogosphere I even post photographs that have absolutely nothing to do with the text. So fire me. Don’t like insects? Get over it. Sometimes a photographer just has to love the one he’s with, and this season, folks, its weeds and bugs.