I remember many moons ago when the term “blogging” first came into general use. I’m not even sure what “general use” means in the world wide web, but I used to think that if I’d heard of something then it must be getting far too common to be cool. I could hear the virtual stampeding of Facebookers – or whatever the collective noun is – leaving Mr Zuckerberg’s sinking ship when I finally signed up a year or two ago.
Obviously Facebook was anything but a sinking ship, it was merely dropping down the crest of one wave to climb another very large one upon which it is sailing right now. Anyway, having taken so long to “get” Facebook (the key for me was smart phones, of which I will no doubt have something to say later…) I started to wonder about blogging.
Why does someone blog?
Who reads their blogs?
What is the point of blogging?
The fact I’m wittering on here means I’ve – to one extent or another – answered these puzzlers. Or, more to the point, I no longer care about why others blog, because I’ve come to realise I could quite enjoy it. OK, it’s very early days yet and I could be bored of this by the end of the week, but I have so many regular internal monologues on such a variety of topics that I thought it’d be strangely cathartic for me to get them written down. If I can share those thoughts with a mix of content to hopefully entertain and inform friends, family and beyond, then that’s got to be satisfying, right?
Once upon a time people wrote diaries and kept them under metaphorical and sometimes literal lock and key. N’ah! If someone cares to read my drivel, (dis)agree with my opinions and get some tiny bit of value or – perish the thought – enjoyment from my prose, then fab.
Dan
stilltortoise 