I wrote a blog once. I teach students how to blog. I researched the impact of blogs on traditional journalism. I rejoiced their arrival and I still celebrate them, yes, even with all their clutter. Yet, I might be the laziest blogger on the planet. I plan to change that here. But, remember, the title of this blog is 'No Clarity Required.' How, then, can I start this out with a 'promise,' that single, damned, wretched harbinger of clarity and certainty?
But here's why I will try: It will get me to write often (notice how I didn't say 'every day.') It will get me to think, because, as writers before me have said, writing reveals to us what we are thinking. And, yes, I'll blog because so many writers are blogging because their publicists think it might be a good way to connect with readers.
That's a sincere hope. Writing my novel and putting it out there has made me feel vulnerable like never before. It's a dream I have had since I was in sixth grade, when I wrote little novellas by hand and gave the original, hard copies to my classmates, who never returned them, but that was O.K. with me, because I thought they were keeping them because they liked what I wrote. This vulnerability, of having a living, breathing novel out there in the living, breathing hands of strangers, is making me hunger for a connection.
I want to know what you think. I want, therefore I blog.