Why We Blog
June 1st, 2013 · 4 Comments · Posted in Blog
Jon Katz on blogging at Hubbard Hall
Purely by chance and at the last minute, I learned of a great event at the Hubbard Hall arts center in Cambridge last night. Author Jon Katz–a local resident famous for writing about his dogs–had given a workshop on blogging and was presenting his class to read from their work.
Katz’s thesis is that the writing profession is undergoing profound changes and that blogging is not only a great democratizer, as far as publishing goes, but also a potential source of income for those who want their voices heard. Katz’s hardcover works are not selling so well. The online versions of his books are going for $2.99. I can see why he would be both worried, and encouraged by the profit potential for blogs. If I understand him correctly, novices like those he has recently mentored should strive to be paid for their work as well.
I’m not sure we need more professional bloggers. The writers I heard last night for the most part are amateurs–ordinary people with varying degrees of experience putting thoughts on paper (or onto the internet, as the case may be.) One was a former truck driver, another a waitress and bartender, another a family doctor, another a country mom. Each had something fresh and profound to say about their lives, whether dealing with kids, struggling with an overly complicated medical system, memorializing daily trivia, or writing verse while tending bar.
I found their personal accounts utterly engrossing. Why in the world would you want to spoil such fresh insight by subjecting them to a profit motive?
I have to admit I am conflicted about blog writing. What’s the purpose, and how many different voices can the world support? Does blogging qualify as art? Should it? Or does this electronic toy work best as an outlet for all those voices out there who otherwise would not be heard?
Or maybe there’s room for all of that.
Personally, I prefer the stream-of-consciousness aspect of blogging. I don’t agonize over my words here the way I might if I were writing a novel or even a work of non-fiction. I make plenty of mistakes, and sometimes write things I later wish I’d said a different way. But I think that’s as it should be. I’m always humbled, as I was last night, when I stumble across a new blogger, who probably never imagined herself a published writer, expressing profound thoughts about her small corner of the world in the most clever ways. The best of blogging is personal: it exposes brilliant insights about aspects of life traditional media either ignore or are denied access.
I can’t help but think there must be a million potential writers out there far better than myself. Now they can be heard. They can blog.
But once you turn professional–once you feel the need to make money off your writing–you can’t help losing that spontaneity, that innocence that prompted you to speak out in the first place. You strike a pose. You begin shaping your words to what you think the market wants to hear. You become predictable.
No, I am much happier knowing there are bloggers out there–more every day–who write, publish photos, post videos and music–purely for their own satisfaction. In a perfect world, they would only last as long as they had something fresh and spontaneous to say. In fact, most blogs–including this one–should probably be retired after a couple of years to make room for fresh talent.
You have to be damn good to have something interested to say–something worth hearing–day after day.
Now, I’ve got to go out and scythe some more around the new electric fence….
Your blog is innately interesting and I enjoy your writing for the good thinking you put into basic decisions on a myriad of issues. Your writing makes good reading. If some online journal were to showcase your blog and give you some residual income to buy feed for your sheep, why
would this necessarily crimp your style? Such residuals compare nicely to the income you might occasionally receive from the power company should you succeed in your idea to install a windmill for your own electricity. This is nothing you can count on so it can’t be predictable. BTW, Eric Van Laer is enjoying your blogs too.
Please say hi to Eric for me, Paul. You should both come up for a visit. It’s quite lovely here–when it’s not 92 degrees in the shade.
Thanks for those thoughtful points, Paul. The line is very fuzzy here, but having worn a number of different hats in the field of professional writing I have to say that when lucre gets involved, it can’t help but alter the direction of your efforts somehow. I’m not saying that some remuneration automatically turns a writer into a whore, but once you come to expect and depend upon income from your writing–once you change the raison d’etre of your blog–you begin to stray from that original spark from which it was born.
I have had many offers from people who want to advertise on The Slow Cook and I’ve always refused them because I the money aspect as a slippery slope. And I just don’t need the money. If others can manage both the money and the intellectual purity, I say more power to them.
It would be fun to see you in your element, Ed. And don’t you think having Eric around would be worth a team of draft horses!
Yes, I definitely think having Eric around would be worth a team of draft horses.