Today is like the epitomy of what I’ve been suspecting: The death of the weblog. Nobody’s reading, nobody’s writing. There are always a few who post daily, and some diehards that manage to keep their sites open for years, but as I embark on my third year of Spinning, I’m beginning to wonder if I did the right thing by renewing. While I sincerely appreciate the few who read Spinning, and enjoy very much the daily trips through the internet of the writing of others, I can see a huge slowdown on both fronts. Maybe the heyday of blogging is over. Many have turned their time and efforts over to more serious writing, and they are those I probably miss the most simply because of their gift of stringing words together to hold an audience.
Whether it’s my obsessive nature, or the fact that as a lone shopkeeper of a custom type work that I have constant access and not a large amount of interaction with customers on a daily basis, or just suffer from the writer’s angst, I’m feeling the pressure of spending too much time on this whilst not being appreciated and I’m getting downright whiney and morose. I think that the fact that my writing hasn’t exploded into publication is bothering me–don’t we all have those dreams? And no, writing for myself is not enough.
Maybe it’s the change of seasons. Maybe more than just I am affected by weather. Or maybe the party’s over.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I’m so glad that Spinning exists. I will always be here, reading away and blogging too. It keeps me going, I think I might not try so hard if it weren’t for my blog, because by reading others and practicing on my own I learn things about writing, reading and living.
i may not be consistent, but i remember the good blogs i read. thats why i keep coming back eery so many weeks. and am also trying to keep mine going on as well…
lets hope this art never dies out as it seems to bring the world closer in a way that has never before and opens forums for every type of topic and emotion like we could never alone imagine.
take care
I believe that many will dabble, but some will continue to paint. It is indeed a combination of journalism, critique, family Christmas letter, pen pal correspondence, and steam vent that truly networks the world as never before accomplished by newspaper, radio, tv, or telephone in its immediate interactivity.