[Literary] Community: Why Do I Blog?

[hrj]

Why do I blog?

I ask that question on a regular basis. Sometimes I ask it as a whiny sort of "why do I even bother?" when it seems like I'm pouring my heart into this site and nobody even notices. Sometimes I ask it as a prompt to inspire me to get back to basic principles, when I'm looking for topics to write on. Sometimes when I'm re-organizing the structure of blog topics, I use it as a touchstone to prioritize what goes into that structure.

One answer was laid out in my very first LiveJournal post, on November 9, 2005 -- slightly over ten years ago:

I come from a long line of diarists. And I've been starting to feel a desire for some way of keeping connected with family, friends, and acquaintances in a more regular and more broadcast manner. Something more casual than individual communication but more personal and immediate than my web site. One of the clinchers came earlier this year when my mother had a cancer scare and I found myself desperately wanting a way to shout, "AAARRRRRRGHHHH!" to the world in general without the individual intrusiveness of e-mailing or phoning specific people.

[Note for those more newly come to my blog: my mother survived that one but succumbed to the next, six years ago.]

As an introvert, I often find blogging to be a more comfortable way of maintaining social ties than in-person gatherings, once those ties have been established. And similarly, as an introvert, I find interactions on blogs to be a way of building up a comfort level with new acquaintances or people I see only rarely, so that when we do interact in person, I'm less likely to freeze up and look for a hiding place. I don't do "instant friends"; I build relationships up in the long, slow laying down of layers. LiveJournal worked better for this before everyone moved to facebook. I'm not really a facebook sort of personality. I communicate in essays.

But a lot of my blogging falls more in the category of "content". So why do I do that? There are two main reasons, coming from very different angles.

1) Research is my life and soul. And sharing that research with others is both a way of giving to the world and motivating myself to work in a more organized fashion. If you've ever wandered around in my personal web site you know that "organized" is a relative term here. But having a place to "publish" drives me on to complete projects in manageable chunks. The Lesbian Historic Motif Project was a "gee it would be fun" idea for many years that only came to fruition when I hit on making it part of my blogging schedule. There are a lot of other things like that if you poke around my personal site.

2) Let's face it: I'm deeply insecure about my relationship to other people and the question of why anyone would want to talk to me or spend time with me. It's not rational, but it's there. And providing "content" is the bait on the fishhook. "See? I'm nobody, but I can write shiny things. Do you like the shiny writing?" There's a weird difference between the fiction and the non-fiction. Every time I promote my fiction, it's the emotional equivalent of going in for a job interview. "Let me impose on your time long enough to beg you to possibly consider that I might in some small fashion provide value to your life." But posting research and non-fictional blogs feels more like standing on a street corner handing out twenty dollar bills. People might walk on by, but if they take one, I have confidence that it wasn't out of pity for me.

And yet the inevitable shifts on the internet landscape require a constant re-evaluation of "why I blog." The interactive/community aspect has declined, not only on LiveJournal but on most personal blogs. Fewer than half my posts get any comments at all. The LHMP gets extremely few, which makes it hard to tell whether it's providing value to anyone besides myself. My blog is no longer the place where I shout "ARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!" to the world, and definitely not the place that I keep in contact with my family. None of my social media provides the sort of diary function that I originally envisioned. Even locked accounts feel too exposed and public for those sorts of thoughts.

Perhaps it remains simply a place to say, "I am here. I exist. See me."

Comments

For what it's worth

[ichseke.livejournal.com]

I read your LJ entries more or less daily, and almost always with deep interest. I say "almost" because the LHMP project is (no surprise here) of very limited applicability to my life, though I have found your comments on some of the sources intriguing and thought-provoking. I almost never respond because ... well, I suffer from the same sense that what I might have to say is so uninteresting that I'd be imposing on someone else's time that could be better spend. So we definitely have that in common.

If you'd like I can post an emoji from time to time, just as a sign of life. Or something.

[sacchig.livejournal.com]

I do read and appreciate your posts, especially the LHMP ones, when you link them from FB. I'm afraid I seldom visit LJ these days except when you or Catherine Lundoff link to your posts here. Had to cut back somewhere or have no offline life at all--and I'm not even on Twitter.

Re: For what it's worth

[hrj.livejournal.com]

I guess I miss the days when LJ was people's primary place to hang out, so even casual chit-chat in the comments was the norm. And I can't say that I'm any better at leaving comments on other people's blogs unless I feel I have Something Important to say. It almost makes me wish LJ had a "like" button.

[hrj.livejournal.com]

Except for my job, I don't have much of an offline life ... but that's why I value my online one so much!

[aryanhwy.livejournal.com]

Huh, you started your LJ about three weeks before I started mine. Thanks for being one of the few who has stuck it out, continuing in this medium (still my favorite for *social* blogging, as opposed content blogging) for the last decade.

[scotica.livejournal.com]

I read all your blog posts, and never cease to marvel at both the interesting insights and the wonderful writing. It is really quite addictive. It occurs to me that now that I've gotten more into Twitter, I ought to make a habit of retweeting your tweets announcing your blog posts —I've often thought "More people should be made aware of this!" and though I don't have a ton of followers, I do think there are many who would enjoy The Rose Garden :-)

[hudebnik.livejournal.com]

I generally read the "random" posts, and the posts about Alpennia and/or the writing process, and read the LHMP ones or not depending on how much of a hurry I'm in. (They tend to be long; I have no particular interest in lesbianism, but often find the "historical sources about ordinary people's lives" facet interesting.)

And, as several others have said, I don't comment unless I feel I have Something To Say :-)

[dr-zrfq.livejournal.com]

A single data point. FWIW: I check LJ about 3-4 times per fortnight, on average. I read your posts with much interest -- though I might skim some parts if I'm feeling short on time. However, as with many other posts, I often don't feel that I have anything much to say in a comment.

[stitchwhich.livejournal.com]

I echo Aryanhwy. I'm not on LJ as often as I was in the past, mostly because my energy level demands housework before sitting in front of my desk... my own journaling has suffered as a result, too. But I do appreciate the reading when I can take the time to catch up (as you can tell by the date of this response.)

I, like you, miss the 'community' feel of the old LJ... but I've found that I cherish the connection to those who are still here, especially when they are people who are not in my physical area. The loss of those writers has created a wider opening for what I now think of as 'pen pals' such as I had in my childhood.