More than a diary and less than a conversation

IncognitoWhen I began writing this blog I really did not understand what blogging was all about.  I don’t know exactly what I was thinking at the time, but whatever that was, it did not meet with the social graces of net communication.

Well, okay.  Even dumb people catch-on sooner or later.

For a while now, I’ve been writing a garden blog.  From the beginning I took a different attitude with MPOD.  I wanted the new blog to be conversational, journal-like, note-like, chronological and fun.  Yet the writer in me still, occasionally, strives to be amusing and aggressively colorful—as my personality would dictate.  Anything else just wouldn’t be me.

Sometimes, I catch myself hesitating to post a few notes, because I don’t have time to edit it properly, and that’s when I have to give myself a good kick in the pants.  At MPOD the gardener always wins, and the writer can just go pout in the corner.

I told myself that I was not going to offer any off-the-grid advice on the new blog.  I don’t care if someone is pouring motor oil on their fields, I just turn away and tsk-tsk.  And I’m determined to only interact with those green-thumbers that have something to teach me, thus placing myself in a subservient position–or, at least, pretending to be the docile friend.

I don’t believe that most wanna-be writers really want help.  No matter how gently one phrases the suggestion.  I don’t believe that the average person, penning away in their garage, will accept advice from anyone, unless that person is a certified, bona fide, bonded, degreed individual, who is a legitimate master of the universe and universities–and maybe the wanna-bes are correct in taking that stance.  There’s a lot of crap out there.

However, small and big things can taught by some otherwise unimpressive people.  For instance, I’ve gathered a lot of information from other gardeners–a bit here, a mite there–and most of them are Masters of Nothing.

And most important of all:  I don’t expect anything in return.  I don’t even mash the ‘follow all comments’ button.  What’s the point, when I didn’t say anything, except:  Yeah.  You go boy.  You’re so clever.

I do sometimes click the ‘Like’ button, and I sporadically type a few lines of approval–never, ever, ever anything even the least bit negative.  Which–for me–makes the whole idea of ‘commenting’ an altogether moot point–a matter of pointless fluff.

Yet I still have this urge to talk-post-read about the art of writing.  Of course, I still study the subject.  But there’s something about….me writing things down in my own words that adds a measure of mental cohesion.  And there’s something about posting that adds enough pressure to perform at a certain level and on a regular schedule.

So…I’m thinking about writing a third blog.  Only this time I’m going to approach it with my brand new attitude.   So, you see, I have learned my lessons, and now I can sally forth into the herd–completely disguised as a normal person….    🙂

4 thoughts on “More than a diary and less than a conversation

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