You know what I find interesting in blogland? I like to see how the circles meet and mix and separate. If you were around four- to five-ish years ago, you remember that blogland was a little town. You really could visit all the sites and have a relationship with ’em. I wasn’t knitblogging back then, but I was blogging and eavesdropping on the knitters. I didn’t want to be one — the relationships looked if not clique-ish, then at least very,very tight.
But I blogged about my knitting once or twice. Then I left a couple of comments. You remember those ones, the tentative ones, the push of the Publish button that left you rather giddy. I did it! That writer’s gonna read MY words! Then, oh, god, what if she comes to MY site? Lord, let’s clean house.
Then I started forming the friendships. The town turned to a city. Multiple zip codes. Then the friend circle got a little unwieldy. There was that whole "shall I link or not" question that I finally solved by only linking family. And all the friend-circles linked their friends, and referenced them, and had their own in-jokes and taglines and slumber parties.
It reminds me of the rings in a tree trunk — you can almost date to the month when someone started blogging by the average ages of her/his circle’s blogs. Newer bloggers get cozy with other newbies, fast. Older bloggers are tired of trying to keep up and lack that OCD drive to read every single post someone else writes, to memorize cat/DH/SO names and favorite colors. And they’re fighting the guilt that comes with that. I have the greatest respect for the people who just read what they want and publish when they want and comment where they want and don’t fret over it. Cari, that’s you. (See? Tight linkage, yo. My girls know who they are.)
Why am I writing this? It’s 0528 in the morning and I’ve been up for, like, forever, so you might know the answer to that better than I do. It’s quite probable.
Maybe it’s because I want to encourage the newer bloggers — keep writing, keep commenting on the blogs you love. The connections can take a while to forge, but they happen, and they’re strong and good and truly, deeply amazing when they do.
And maybe I’m writing this because I want you to forgive me when I don’t comment as much, when I don’t respond back to comments. I’m still reading, still blog-hopping and eating up the details and loving the new faces and appreciating the creative, thoughtful, intelligent comments, but I’m totally lazy. And less willing to feel guilty about it, so that’s good. That’s actually really good.
I started blogging with the goal of kick-starting my own writing. A little online CPR. And it’s worked. I’m writing more now than I ever have, and it feels amazing. Gold stars for everyone!
And as usual, thank you.
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