I think part of what’s stopped up my blogging over the years has been, in part, my shifting interests. When I did have a following of sorts, my writing consisted almost entirely of zany anecdotes or brain dumps from my own life. At that time in my life, that was largely all I thought of. I was single, and still recovering from a psychologically and sexually abusive relationship, and coming to terms with all the things in my life that had lead up to me being in said relationship. I didn’t have much in the way of serious outside interests, I didn’t do much in the way of introspection. My brain was enough of a tangle of serious stuff without me spewing it out on a page.
Now, with distance, and a happier life, I’m just not as keen to only be a clown. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a clown (except for the makeup and the murdering of small children every twenty-eight years in a small town in Maine). I’m just ready to write from other facets of my personality now.
But it’s like with the writing quickly just to write. It’s like with the incorporating diversity into my fiction. I just don’t know how.
My benchmark for quality non-fiction writing, once upon a time, was whether or not it made people laugh. Now, without that being the only benchmark, I feel a little lost. I’m just plain not used to blogging or writing any non-fiction without that being the only goal in mind.
But I’ve got it down in my handy little agenda to write about things that aren’t funny. I’ve got it down in my handy little agenda to start gracing you with my opinions. And my opinions will not always make you laugh. The things I write about that aren’t my opinions will also not always make you laugh.
I guess that means I have to learn to actually write well.