I talk about things that I’m passionate about to my IRL friends. And they just look at me blankly. I talk about LetterMo and how it’s modeled after NaNoWriMo. And They look at me like, “What language was that?” I never realized how odd it is that I blog. And maybe it isn’t odd. It’s just that the people I talk to on a regular basis don’t blog, don’t journal, don’t write letters, don’t DO a lot of the same things I do.
And that’s FINE! I love all my IRL friends. I just have to remember that they may not be interested, or need more clarification, explanation, whatever.
It’s just amazing to me that not everyone has this deep need to get their words out. I get this feeling, that I have to get out what’s in my head, heart, soul in order to let go and move on. It’s almost like an itch that needs to be scratched. And I think why I’m so surprised is that in today’s society it’s common for people to put out their most inner thoughts on social media. Hell, what is Twitter if not blogging in microscopic form? But to ask someone to write more than 140 characters, they can’t comprehend it. It’s weird, to me at least.
It’s funny, my Mom always told me I’d make a great writer. I never really thought about it. And I never sat down and thought out a story, or plotline, or anything like that. But then I ran across an article online or something that said something to the effect of “Blogging is essentially published writing.” And that made me pause. Am I really a writer? Is this need to get stuff out of me, what Real Writers like Neil Gaiman and Juliet Blackwell feel? Only they have entire worlds to get out, I just have a rant, rave or some other nonsense.
Do any of my blog readers have the same feeling? Do you think of yourselves as writers? What do your IRL Non-Blogging friends think of your blog?