Why I Stopped Blogging (And Why I Want To Write Again)

I haven't touched my blog for over a year.

It's like my blog and I became this old married couple. I was just too busy and tired to be bothered. Sometimes I would try, but it would seem so forced. I tried less frequently. Then it became awkward. The longer I waited, the more apparent the awkwardness became. So I just stopped trying altogether. For awhile, I pretended nothing was out of the ordinary...but the shame. Poor neglected blog. I thought about giving my blog $100 for a hooker or a lap dance or something to keep it happy. All my blog could do is weep lonely tears that reflected my guilty face back at me.

I blamed the lack of passion on a lot of things. At first, it was writer's block. I felt like I didn't have anything else to say; all of my interesting stories had been told. Nevermind that I build stories around me everyday just by existing. I'm not so arrogant as to think that the minutiae of my daily routine is blog-worthy, but dude, after a year, shit did happen that was certainly interesting, funny, and/or strange.

Next, I blamed it on the fact that I was far too busy to write anything. I mean before, I was *just* a stay at home mom. But since we last left our heroine (that's with an "e", not to be confused with the drug. Because really? I don't leave my heroin anywhere. That shit is just too damn expensive)...anyway, since we last left me, I have started college. Again. Because I am out of my fucking mind. Being behind on the housework and neglecting the kids and my husband wasn't enough for me. I needed something else to stress and fret and get new anti-anxiety meds over. Since True Blood is in its off-season, I decided that college was the next best thing to get my panties in a wad over.

In addition to the two previous scapegoats, I also blamed myself. Woe is me. I'm not a good enough blogger. There are a million other people out there just like me. There are a million people out there better than me. I can't rise above the din of those incessant collective keyboard taps to get MY damn voice heard. If I was good enough, I would have caught on by now anyway. Even if this is the (likely) truth, it shouldn't matter.

My self-pity was just the bacony wrapping on a bigger piece of meat: the blogging community. (This is where I get crucified). I admit, I got sucked into the blogging "thing", particularly the women's blogging "thing". I was blinded by the dazzling lights of ads and sponsors. I was titillated at the thought of going to blog conferences and networking with like-minded bloggers. The fact that some of my peers were getting to travel and do conferencey things for free...or hell, even paid to do so was deliciously tempting. How could I get a piece of that pie? It took awhile before I realized that pie was just a big old slice of High School Pie. It was nothing more than a popularity contest. I've tasted that pie before and it tastes like cherry lipgloss and turds. Some of the "most popular" blogs were less than stellar writers. Bland, boring, blaaahhhhgs. While there certainly, CERTAINLY, are bloggers out there who are worthy of such notoriety, there are far more who are nothing but ad and product whores. Yup. I said it. Whores.

It was sometime in the last few months when I realized the real reason I stopped blogging was because I was no longer writing for me. I was no longer writing for my audience, even. I was rubbing my blog's tits on the soapy shower door of the internet in hopes of becoming a whore. I'm not even sure why. *GASP* They put peer pressure in that High School Pie! I came to this realization last semester when I had to take a writing course. I loved every fucking minute of it. You know why? Well, for one, because I am a huge nerd. But mostly because I was not writing with an ulterior motive. I was fine tuning some mechanics and learning different ways to write using different (but always my own) voices. Even though I was being graded on it, I was once again writing for myself. It felt good, especially since I was so nervous going into the class having written so very informally for years. I mean, let's face it, this shit ain't even CLOSE to grammatically correct; it's barely coherent. However, I exceeded my own expectations in the class and more importantly, it sparked my passion for writing once again. I felt it. Writer's High. How I had missed that feeling. So, one of the things I keep seeing over and over again regarding writing is to tell the truth. This shit may not be Pulitzer, but it's the truth. I want it to stay that way before I run it into a commercialized ditch filled with blinking 125x125 ads and miracle product click-throughs.

Ok. So, if you are still reading this and haven't set your laptop on fire because I've pissed you the hell off since you are a whor...I mean blogger who I have deeply offended...or if you are one of my groupies who just loves me because....um....wait, why the hell do you love me? Please know that one of my New Year's Resolutions this year is to start writing again. It might be f-bomb infused mind vomit here, it might be in a personal journal, it might be something formal somewhere that you may never see, or it might be your number on the bathroom wall, Jenny. I love writing and I'm going to do it. So there. Someone give my damn blog some Viagra so I can get this party started.