Keri Smith, guerilla artist/illustrator/writer, posted an intriguing "rant on blogging" at her
Wish Jar Journal today. Honestly, I don't see it so much as a rant, but rather a well thought-out, intelligent discussion about why we blog.
Of course, it's a question that I think we all ask ourselves. Why do this? Why should I put myself out there for the whole world to see? Why put forth the effort for something that perhaps only a handful of folks will read? Or maybe hundreds, or even thousands will read it, and think I'm totally nuts? Oh crap, what if my family reads some of this? My coworkers? Think, think, think.
Keri's post puts it in a nutshell in these short sentences: "As my husband recently pontificated, isn't a bit of ego necessary for anyone to both create and put anything out into the world, creative projects, books, music, etc.? otherwise we would just keep it all to ourselves."
That's part of it. Part of being an artist is the "getting out there." And it's pretty dang hard to do with a meek, tiny personality, with an apartment full of unseen artwork locked in a closet. The work may be genius. It may be breathtaking. But unless the artist is completely cool with it only being seen by their own eyes (and I know very few who are 100% OK with that), then it's certainly tough to keep going, keep creating. At least for me, anyways.
Maybe I like a little bit of the limelight. OK, yes. I love it. I have a competitive streak that I've come to accept as part of my personality. I remember being small, and being praised for the stories I wrote, the pictures I drew. It felt good. I kept doing it, seeking more praise, more warm-fuzzies. And the more I sought those feelings, pushed harder, the better I became. And I say this with a little bit of shame, but that's one of the reasons I enjoy blogging. I can't deny that my pulse races a little bit when I see that I've had visitors. My head says, "See? Someone is listening. They are paying attention. All those years you thought nobody heard you? Well they did. You have been validated." Warm-fuzzies. Call it "only-child syndrome," if you must. Pay attention to me! I'm special! he he. Please, no.
The trick, as I pondered in Keri's blog, is avoiding the popularity conundrum. She writes, "so how do I combat the feeling of blogging being a popularity contest, combined with my own trait of being a rather competitive soul?" My thoughts, exactly. Do I want to make it? Do I want to go far? Do I want lots and lots of people to visit my blog, read my words, see my work? Yes. All of that would be great. But the moment it becomes all-consuming, the moment I feel depressed when I have zero comments, sparse traffic, that is when it has gone too far.
Part of the medium of blogging
is the publicity. That is part of it's appeal to me. Free publicity, seemingly endless space to fill with words and wisdom and beauty. But the other part of blogging is what it does for
me, the blogger, the artist. It is selfish, in a good way. The reason I joined this community was purely self-driven: I needed a project. Fresh out of college, without structure, without homework, without assigned sketches and essays and photo shoots...I was lost. But the blog? It is structure in the loosest sense of the word. It gives me something to aim for. Just post something, dear, and you'll feel better.
And I always do.
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