Retrospective on Six Years of Blogging

When I began this venture into online writing six years ago, I viewed it as my outlet to the world–an instant digital plug-in to communicate with bookworms and bibliophiles around the globe from my isolated mountain retreat far from the country’s cultural centers. As an obscure, unknown writer, I would send missives to unknown addressees. Luckily, none of my posts would come back marked “Return to Sender.” In Emily Dickinson’s terms, if the world did not come to visit me or write letters to me, then I would write little essays to the world that never wrote to me. Like sending a message in a bottle out to sea, I would post short commentaries on the art of writing, favorite books and authors, films, all things literary, and any topic cultural or political that appealed to me and send my little essays to float off into the blogosphere and land willy-nilly where they may.

As a blogger I hoped to spark a conversation. In retrospect, blogging has been a successful and satisfying form of self-expression, but it has not produced the dialogue to the extent I had hoped for between me and readers. Although I often invite readers to add their thoughts and ideas on the topic of my posts, they have not generated a great deal of comments, at least not as many as I would have liked. Despite this, I am a little frog with boundless temerity in an ocean of bloggers and have collected my posts over the period May 2011 to May 2017 into a book titled How Public Like a Frog.

I am a frog on a log in my blog. I may be croaking alone, but I enjoy the sound of my croaks. Blended from the labial at the end of the word web and from log, as in a ship’s log or journal, the blog emerged in the 1990s and quickly caught fire. The blog can simply be an online personal journal, a ranting platform, or an informational forum on any conceivable hobby or interest. Essentially, it is informal non-fiction writing, making anyone in the world an opinion columnist. I aim for my blog posts to be mini-essays. In the classic sense, their goal is to delight and instruct, appealing to writers and readers of all genres even poetry lovers.

Sometimes my blog frog has ventured into the political swamp. I believe this topic is not off-limits to serious writers. Not only opinion columnists and political scientists are entitled to wade through this territory, but fiction writers as story-tellers must uphold honesty. In a way, fiction writers tell honest lies. They fabricate fictional truth by creating a made-up world in which they can illuminate reality and expose hypocrisy and venality under the guise of storytelling. They change the names of people and places, alter clothes and accents, add a mustache or curl the hair here and there to protect both the innocent and the guilty. As for poetry, it embodies heightened life; it encapsulates the life lived well and honestly. A faked poem is readily apparent; it is sentimental, forced, pompous, and gerrymandered. No higher praise can be awarded a novel, a poem, a film, any literary work than to pronounce it true to life. The frog alone in its bog reflects upon what it sees. His small pond is a microcosm of the macrocosm. Those reflections may find a kindred spirit in the universe, and when that happens, I croak happily.

As long as I have breath and functioning brain cells, my frog will publicize my thoughts and observations on this blog. I like commenting on books and films that have enlightened me. They are like flies I catch here and there while I am sitting on my log. My roving eye enjoys movies and will  not resist telling you why I think they are worth viewing. I love art, music, and painting.  In case you haven’t noticed, I go absolutely gaga over history.  Perhaps I am a hopeless dilettante, a dabbler in the arts, a goggle-eyed egg-headed intellectual. That’s not to say I avoid exercise. I do like to jump from lily pad to lily pad, to dive in the water and make a small splash, a little ping in the pond now and then. I hope you’ll be standing by the shore and listening.

 

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2 responses to this post.

  1. I’m an admitted erstwhile reader. My reading of these blog entries may sometimes depend entirely on what is going on in my own personal life. Often, often, I elude contact with the outer limits of my small world, well, to keep my world small. That said, I admire this blog writer’s smart and sassy essays, enjoy her perspective and the enlightenment that comes from such. She knows she makes me think (infrequent telephone calls manifest our shared thoughts) and I believe she appreciates me as a fellow thinker. My only comment on the aforesaid essay: I’m not so sure this frog on a log should be in an ocean (as written) – she can correct me if I’m wrong – as she would surely drown or die from the sea salt or shrivel from exposure, only to be eventually discovered and shipped off to a high school biology lab (in her case perhaps a brain research center) for dissection and examination. Hmmm. Maybe it’s the exposure she seeks. PS none of this is meant to be mean-spirited; in fact, I delight in this opportunity to freely respond!

    Reply

  2. Posted by Judith on August 14, 2017 at 3:20 pm

    Olivia I really enjoyed your retrospective–I don’t know why you don’t like to comment on your own work. This is wonderful.

    Reply

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