Yet Another New Blogging Year
I have confronted a fresh, clean blog page starting in Januarys for more than a decade, but usually with a bit of enthusiasm and some kind of large-scale hope for where the “folk writing” about the ordinary things and events in and around Floyd County might carry me.
The carte is more blanche than usual this year. The trend has been to say less and less about less and less on this page, because more and more, there’s no HERE Â here. And it’s not just this blog. The center of online participation has shifted. It’s much harder to connect with readers who, for the most part, want a photograph, a few links, and a short paragraph. Cats are good. And short videos of people falling or otherwise embarrassing themselves.
There are winds that are gone now that once filled my sails, all the more because others were on the same journey. I know there are still a few of you out there, so no need to raise your hands. You are appreciated, to be sure.
Focus here over the years has included sense of place; the magic of the written word; language in general; the human enterprise and creativity, sustainability and the arts; our “personal ecology” and the way we interact with nature, place and community; dog and chicken and wife stories; and so on.
One of the greatest joys in recent blogging years was to dig deeper into a topic that both interested me and was worth telling to others who might in turn pass along the new way of seeing familiar issues.
It was the product of those forays that most often turned into Floyd Press articles for seven years, ending a year ago December. Â I miss that, quite honestly.
That latter change in my life–not having the deadlines, not having the built-in (if generally silent) audience of mostly local fellow-residents–has made a big difference in what I think I am about. My identity was for a long time tied up in what I found myself thinking about, researching and writing about, starting by posting at least a rough version of the topic here on Fragments.
I don’t post those kinds of things so much anymore. And while I’m accumulating related topical bits to perhaps incorporate into this “book” I’m working on in a lurching, anemic fashion, I wish I felt more engaged than I do.
The fact that it’s a gray, bleak winter day, that a number of our friends leave the mountains until spring time, and my continuing (if improving) orthopedic limitations–all these play into the usual winter blahs. I intend to get over it, but that won’t so much show up here but in energies put other places. So know I’m at least pretending to be word-smithing off site if I don’t post every day.