This blog I mean. I'm writing for (and have been for almost 20 years) mainstream magazines, mostly parenting-related ones now though I've been all over the map. I'm writing some essays in a writing group of psychoanalysts that are trying to find some new territory and seem to be in some middle space between mainstream magazine writing and a more analytic/intellectual/academic kind of writing. So my writing is suspended, or maybe it's all taken apart and lying in pieces on the garage floor, and I'm wondering how to put it back together--how I want to try to, and whether I'll even be able to do it.
And then I started a blog. Somehow it seemed clear to me what the frick I wanted to do with it at the time, but now I'm just stumped. What goes where? It's all going everywhere. I'm like that woman in Lessing's The Golden Notebook (I don't know how to make and underline yet; sorry, Doris) who tries keeping all her part-selves in different notebooks and then finds she just has to put it all in one, thus the GOLDEN notebook, her symbolically unified, now non-splintered self. So is this blog the golden notebook. Yikes, this seems way too public a place for that. But then, where does one draw the line, especially if one (ie: me) is someone whose writing tends to be very autobiographical. I mean, what happens to ones (ie: my) journal writing once I have a blog? Am I reserving something for there? If so, what?
Even the way I'm writing is revelatory of a decision I'm not sure I want to make. I'm writing as if for an audience, no? I can't quite tell. It wouldn't be that different (or maybe not different at all) in a journal. So does it just feel different because I know it could be public (though it isnt yet because no one but my brother (who doesn't have a computer to my knowledge), my husband, and my son know I have a blog.
The whole drive-to-blog started from discovering knitting blogs, then moving onto crafting and food blogs, then just exploring all around. The camaraderie and community appealed to me, the pictures, the money shots of yarn and chocolate tarts and butternut squash soups that people posted, along with the stuff they were painting and carving and the little odd shots of their house or their day--it was and is all fascinating. Relationships are formed with these writers and their obsessions just as they are with characters in fiction or on television or in ones real life. I thought having a blog would then be a fun way to express myself, join in, hop aboard. Everyone, and I mean every one, seems to be having fun at it. And I figured it might help me write more.
So, now that I've got that out I guess I can go back to my business. I hope it'll be just like when a tennis teacher took apart my serve and I went from being able to do it, but badly, to taking apart each bit of the movement and trying to adjust it and not being able to do it at all anymore, to being able to do it, now better than in the beginning. It was a strangely frightening process because of the total loss part in the middle.
Going to the Green and Purple House (the actual, wooden structure G&P House as opposed to the G&PHouse that is a symbolic creative space) this weekend. Plans: go to Hancock Shaker Village Country Fair; buy pumpkins; do some lopping with my lopper; finish clearing up all the trees we cut down last weekend; think of something fun to make with the kids; gather bright leaves and press them.