is blogging the wannabe-writer's version of teaching?

there's an American expression...(maybe more than american, who knows ... well someone knows but I can't be arsed to look it up at the moment) ... "those that can't do, teach".

does this equate to "those that can't be published, blog?" gasp! yes, I said it.

yeah yeah, I know...lots of bloggers ... well some percentage of bloggers, blog and actually make money off of it. in my limited experience (being busy trying to survive and all) with blogging and the economics of writing, i've stumbled across a few blogs and bloggesses that seem to profit as well as enjoy ... the bloggess, dooce etc. yep yep.

many (okay some) blogs have moved on to book-land ... julie & julia project, dooce, bete du jour, petite anglaise, etc etc... seems to me, upon observation ... that many blogger blogs that experience bookdom seem to morph dramatically or even ! yikes ! cease to exist. those that remain seem to become an advertising vehicle for their recently published works.

but there is also a contingent of bloggers out there who have been very public in their quest for publication. and likely others that have kept severely mum. we have read of their journey...the writing, the submission, the rejections, the angst ...

the harder they strain, the more intricate their blogs seem to become. whereas before, earnest dialogue and ruminations ran rampant in their writings ... freed of the self-conscious glances over their own shoulders and second-guessing of their tomes ... now, in pursuit of loftier goals ... they vie for increased subscriptions, links, awards and followers. they employ artful approaches to increase visitor volume and blog ranking. all in the name of their art, they seem to form a culture all their own. running contests, beseeching for award votes and employing increasingly outlandish methods to gain attention.

i've asked this question before, is blogging real writing? or the near-miss author's pacifier?

i've thrown feelers out myself recently. fantasizing about interest, if any, in my adventure. all this in the wake of my severely neglected blog and writing. having gone back and read my first few months' entries, I find myself far more interesting then. but I was preparing for the adventure. or embarking upon same.

yes I'm interested in sharing that story and maybe even in a different medium than blogging. but I don't think I'm willing to expend time and energy trying to perfume the pig in order to find a taker...

what do you think?

you may say I'm a dreamer.

my picture post got me thinking about dreaminess. and again I selected one of my own pictures here, mostly for its dreamy quality. Because when I think about dreaminess, I think about what dreams can do in a life. for a life. to a life.

a lot of folks have commented a bit enviously to me "oh, you're living my dream!" ... or "I've always dreamed of doing something like that but ... "

reflecting a bit, I'd say I spent a good deal of my life dreaming. Dreaming of being someone else, doing something else. A lot of my life even seems like a dream. Did all of that really happen to me? it is very surreal, almost out-of-body like!

when I think about my childhood, I think perhaps dreaming saved me. When unspeakable things were happening to me, I'd let myself float. Take myself out of my body, and ride the dream-train to a better place. a different setting. by the time I'd returned, usually the worst would be over.

maybe this was my entry into dreamland as a coping mechanism. and a writing tool. In my 20s, I nurtured my writing dreams with all sorts of journaling, creative exercises, and purging of the ugliness and pain in my head onto paper. and screens (!) But after a point, it seemed my writing became a dream. I mean, who was reading it but me? writing helped keep me alive in those years.

As I became more entrenched in corporate warfare, dreams continued to be my escape mechanism. Granted, my success fueled my ability to take more concrete steps toward my French fantasy. I finally could afford to actually go to France! not just read about it and send my kids to French schools ... but set my feet on French soil (well okay Parisian cobblestones, but same thing really). As time crawled on, I supplemented my fantasy with dreams of owning a bit of France and making my escape. Dreams of writing had fallen by the wayside, but were replaced with even headier aspirations of escape.

Hours of meaningless meetings and conference calls were supplemented with French real estate site surfing, international expatriate living sites, amazon.com trolling for travel guides and how to live abroad tomes and early Peter Mayle fluff regaling me with flirty tales of living in Provence. bluehomes.com and green-acres.com and internationalliving.com. The dream began to take shape beneath those fluorescent lights. daily dreaming. not much action.

To my chagrin, years passed. My dreams lulled me into a state of compromise and coping. I lived vicariously through others as I served myself up to the daily grind. Each day the same as the last, talking about doing something but never doing...allowing myself to accept the American way of things and the fears we are fed as reason to defer my dreams to some unknown future date.

Thankfully, that changed. Something clicked inside of me in 2006, and my dreaming became more bold. My trips to France included meetings with property vendors and home inspections. In 2007 I threw all caution to the wind and jumped smack dab in the middle of my own dream, waking myself up in the process! I bought that French soil!

When I returned from that trip, and the paperwork began making its way back and forth via la Poste ... my dreams took on a life of their own. For nine months, the home purchase marched on ... and so did my corporate career. Nothing seemed to have changed much, in fact the home buying trip to France took on a dreamlike state of its own.

When I finally signed all of the last papers in December 2007, I reached a crossroads. Was I going to continue selling out on myself and my dreams? Or could I find even more gumption than it took to actually buy a house in France to actually try and live here? dreams can transform a person, I'm here to tell you.

This leads me to the other reason I started this post. A blogger I recently began reading, Citizen of the Month inquired "Why do you keep blogging?".

And I wrote some fol-de-rol response, mostly true bits but not succinct.

I keep blogging because I am a dreamer. I'm living part of my life's dream. And now trying to devote time to the part of my dream I've spent a lifetime avoiding.

My dream of being a writer. let me say, in my mind I've always been a writer. But to me (and the world at large), one can only lay claim to such if you are published.

Becoming brave enough to leap into my dream of a new life has increased my confidence that other dreams can come true. But I have this bad habit of avoidance (as evidence above). My dream fulfilled here in France has also allowed me to avoid my other dream. A new and very long project list of France to do's(not altogether unlike the meaningless project lists from Corporate Unreality that I used as subterfuge for doing what I really wanted and needed to do) has somewhat obscured my focus.

But ... Citizen's query got me thinking ... and dreaming ... and reflecting ... and recommitted to the process of trying to write. Blogging has been a beautiful gift to me as part of this new life thing. and blogging presents a writer a gift that didn't exist previously ... the gift of readers! people who can actually serve to provide immediate reaction as to whether one's writing is palatable ... one can get feedback and interaction and inspiration regarding the writing - good and bad. It is really extraordinary, this blogging writing experiment.

My blog commenced with 2008's resolve to create a new life. I think (and I dream!) that in 2009 my blog can serve as a tool for shaping my new dream into more of a reality. Bring my writing more into focus. Take it from that dream-like quality to super-fine, photo resolution.

you may say that I'm a dreamer. I hope I'm not the only one.

are bloggers "real" writers?

this question (not a new one, I'm certain) arose when reading a recent post by Halfway to France's LaFraméricaine.

she was commenting upon feedback she has received from Monsieur LeFraméricain on the time consumed on the computer. And how she hasn't completed reading a book in its entirety since she began her blog. and other sundry nuances related to creating time and space to blog.  almost like we should apologize for goofing around on the internets.

my reaction to her and in my head was, how is this different than writing via pen or manual typewriter or other means? isn't blogging just a form of writing using a computer as a tool?

Would spouses, partners, etc. vent as much if we were sat at a desk pen in hand? or they could hear the clickety-clak of the typewriter keys?

Don't authors of the non-computerized sort still have to make time for writing ... make choices to reduce some activities or organize they schedule in a manner to put their words in readable form?

Why does the fact that a computer is involved diminish the value of the output?  Why is what is written 'less serious' because it is spontaneous? In many respects, MORE is on the line in this regard since one's audience consumes the output more quickly, leaving less time for editing etc. that printed on paper words allow.

Of course, not ALL bloggers are writers. Some folks have a blog to post family photos, talk about janey's softball games, write notes to self and granny. They may only update sporadically with Farmer's Almanac type info like weather, what they ate, etc.

But some of us are attempting more than that. We're serious about the thoughts and messages we are imparting to our readers. I  try to live up to my personal commitment and goal of providing entertaiing content of interest related to my blog theme and also to pose topics and questions, material of a thought-provoking nature.

How this differs from a newspaper journalist or writer of a printed magazine article escapes me. Except perhaps for the pay. Which some of us are even beginning to realize as well.  Blogging is an element of the writing/publishing industry and can be done for personal satisfaction up to and including great monetary gain.

So, get it straight. We bloggers are as real as you want us to be. And most times more.

(image from the bobofiles.com)