You know how I whine all the time that nobody reads my blog? I try to sound like I’m joking, but the truth is that it’s not that great as it might seem at first sight. It doesn’t really motivate me to keep doing this, does it? I mean, there are more rewarding ways to fill my fifteen minutes of baby-free time that I get every two-three hours each day. Like reading, for example, or drawing, or even sewing little things (bibs, lots of bibs!) (yes, and tiny sweaters cut out from old sweaters. Lots of those too!).
I do enjoy writing blog posts and I used to put a lot of time and effort into them, but honestly I don’t know if it’s worth it for me. Sure, I am trying to get my writing career off the ground again, and blogs are supposed to help with that. It’s not like I’m going to stop blogging now, but I have to confess to a disabling lack of motivation. It takes a lot of work to achieve even a small degree of success in the blogging world. And it’s not only work, but it helps if you are a certain type of personality, you know what I mean, very open, unafraid, effusive, engaging … I don’t know … I think I am maybe just a little too … boring? Let’s just say that. I am trying to pretend to be more interesting, hoping that maybe it sticks, but it’s not working very well, is it?
I do want to keep writing the blog for the person who reads my book (hopefully soon to be plural. The books, not the persons–I am fairly sure more than one poor soul attempted to read the thing and even finished it) and is intrigued to know more about the writer behind the work. I know I often go that route when I read something I like. I research the author to death and gaze at millions of photographs on google images. I imagine there are others like me out there. And I hope that one day there will be one or two curious about this writer. So I guess it is for that distant dream that I will keep doing this blogging thing. Because dreaming has always come easy to me.