Izzlebug and the Big Question

I was wondering why no one in my family seemed very interested in my blog. I was starting to get hurt feelings about it, and so on, when I had to be honest and remind myself that a) I really hadn't told too many of them about it, and b) probably the reason I hadn't told many family members is because I am not really certain just what it is I want or expect from having this blog. I have received some very nice compliments both online and during my finishing my undergraduate degree about my writing - at least enough that I feel I can say without too much ego intrusion that I write well - but that does not pay the bills. So now what? It is certainly true that I would love to be a published writer someday and it is also true that I really do not feel I would be able to do very well if I tried to cater to other peoples' needs or goals in order to become "publishable," but isn't that what getting published is really about? Isn't becoming a published writer about pleasing someone else with what you have written? Obviously there is a balance to be reached somehow, but I feel just a little confused about how to discover what that balance is and how to achieve it. Perhaps, for most of us, it is gained by holding your breath and stepping off into the deep end of the pool for the first time without a life preserver strapped securely to your chest.

I also had to admit to myself that I had no real desire to become posthumously famous or to have my work "discovered" after I am no longer able to defend or manage things. Selfish, I know, but if I am the only one who cares about my writing, and I am the only one who has read most of it, why leave it lying around for someone else to throw away? Isn't assuming that anyone at all might like to read it in a hundred years or so even more selfish and egotistical than my destroying my own creative efforts due to the general lack of interest of even those closest to me? It leaves me in something of a dilemma, it is too early in the game for a bonfire but it is beginning to feel as though there is nothing I can do to keep that from remaining the only possibility for my writing. I don't even know if this will make sense to anyone else, but these are some of the thoughts that have been running around in my brain this evening. One aspect of this is, that if I did choose to destroy what I have written, it would not make much difference in that, by the time ashes were growing cold, I would be back writing again.

Probably, as I enjoy writing so much, I had better just keep on writing and keep on saving all of my stuff - even though some of it REALLY stinks - for at least my own future reference. I will probably, however, do everything I can to get rid of the worst of it before climbing into my death bed. I'll make it a marshmallow roast and invite some friends over for s'mores.

Looking back to the day I started this blog, I think I was hoping for lots of input and discussion about, not only my writing, but the ideas and thoughts I was expressing as well. I suppose I should hang in there for more than a mere few weeks before I decide that will not ever be the case. Perhaps after I post this entry I will get on the email trail and send the url to the rest of my family. I have already let my dad know, in no uncertain terms, that if he does not look at my blog at least once there will be no signed copies of newly published works for him in the future. Absolutely not! I may also send the url to former professors - in case there is any time or interest on their parts in a former student's continued literary efforts - and to a few more select friends and acquaintances. Perhaps then I will have the massive amounts of repartee I was hoping for in the first place.

Maybe none of this would have occured to me if it had not rained all day today. It has been cold and soggy and very un-Summer-like. It is a little quieter this evening as I can detect no sounds of pounding rain breaching the confines of the house, and I am hoping the very wet chipmunk I saw on the deck earlier is someplace warm and dry, as it is quite chilly outside. Although most of the weather during this time of year is usually too hot for my comfort, to have it this cold so early is moderately depressing. Each season has its turn and it feels as if Winter is attempting to oust Autumn altogether by treading on the toes of Summer. Hopefully, and the thought of this does make me feel a little better, all of this rain will result in truly brilliant Fall colors in the foliage this year. A truly spectacular Autumn would go a long way toward making up for the damp and chill that has been causing molds and mildews, to which I am allergic, to spore thus aggravating my asthma. Nature owes us an apology of incredible beauty this year and I hope we get to collect on that particular debt.