Let’s be honest, I know most of you who read this.
I’m not penning great literary confections and sending them out into the hands of drooling consumers.
There isn’t really a demand for this.
I know my mom has wondered, and I’ve been asked so many times over the years…
“Why a blog?”
It’s a good question. I mean, I’m not making money, sometimes what I write is embarrassing or inappropriate, and it takes time I could be spending with something else.
I have always documented my life, in one way or another.
Remember those padded back diaries that locked with a big flat lock on the side? The ones that were opened with a tiny metal key, which wasn’t much more than a piece of tin which a nib on the end to unlatch the lock. The same diary key that approximately 6.5 zillion wistful girls (and boys, there were definitely boy diarists) had?
My diary was purple with little pink hearts, and the key? I wore that shit on a chain around my neck. NO ONE was going to read about how much I sometimes hated my sister, how much I was in love with boy A, or how I needed to pray more.
Also, sometimes I wrote erotica (or as close as a preteen could get). I always erased that stuff, though, in case Jesus might see.
I went through the same writing spells then that I do now. Sometimes I had huge gaps in entries.
But it was always something I could do, something I enjoyed and that I was good at.
All through high school I wrote down thoughts and secrets and stuff I couldn’t tell anyone at all. They might find out I wasn’t holy, they might tell my mom, they might go to my church.
Yeah, I was pretty uptight as far as teenagers go.
When Xanga came along, it was so liberating. I was going through a divorce, I was in a new relationship, and I’d lost a lot of friends. I could go to my Xanga and spill out whatever I had, and if someone didn’t like it, screw them.
Pretty much that hasn’t changed.
Now, though, I realize that I always come back to writing because it is home. It’s my passion. Maybe I’m not penning letters to adoring fans, but I’m out there. I say what I think and what I feel, and the catharsis that it can sometimes bring is invaluable.
I haven’t written much erotica, though. So at least I’m past that.