Blogging, which, to be fair, I’ve only done for a month, has its drawbacks. It feels something like hollering back into a long dark tunnel, as you’re walking out. Or maybe it’s more like setting off one of those parade poppers that have colorful streamers – there’s a big beautiful burst, but then the streamers fall to the ground behind us, ignored.
OK, I’m still working on my similes.
Writing a blog is homework for a Memoir class at Chatham University taught by the extraordinary Sheryl St Germain.* It is intended to be a place where we can respond to the prompts from "Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir," by Natalie Goldberg, or respond to assigned readings. In short, it's a place to exercise our writing muscles.
It’s a pleasure to read my classmate’s blogs, on which we are to comment. And I enjoy reading what others say in their comments, but here’s where it gets cumbersome.
Everyone is busy, and I’m lucky that am only taking the one class. But even for me, it feels too time consuming to track back reading the comments about the comments, and then, days later, more comments back. I suspect readership, even among the willing classmates, falls off quickly. So final comments remain unread, ignored, mere litter at the parade.
And, darn it, there’s some real interesting writing going on there.
So, as I sit here exercising my writing muscle I realize it is time to come ‘round to a brilliant conclusion. Maybe it’s this: if they’re beautiful, let’s pick up the streamers, hold on to them and run with delight.