One of the cardinal rules of the writing workshop is that one shouldn’t write about writing.  

And yet so far, all I want to blog about is, well, blogging.  First of all, there are all of your lovely comments to which I want to respond, but probably won’t.  Blogs invite dialogue, but to post to each individual here might grow tedious for my three other readers.  

But I have a more sinister confession.  Today’s awkward encounter, if you will.  Between me and my computer (no, not that kind of encounter, you pervs).  

I’m already obsessed with my own blog.  

That’s right, it’s been up a mere fifteen hours or so and I’m already checking it repeatedly to see how many visitors it’s had, calculating the effects of posting a doubleawk link in my status on Facebook, and frantically checking for subscribers.  According to feedburner, I have none, so I would greatly appreciate it if you would slow my racing heart by getting off your asses and subscribing.

Of course blogging about blogging probably isn’t the best way to get you to do that.  

So let me blog about the history of my life as a blog junkie.  A quick flashback, if you will.  I actually remember when I learned about what a blog was.  I attended the Columbia Publishing Course in 2002; blogs weren’t in the curriculum yet, just vague references to new media.  But a rather pushy Italian woman in the course kept asking about blogs: Why weren’t we studying them?  What role would they play?  Had we read hers?  We mostly ignored her, or occasionally imitated her talking about her blog in a way that made her sound like Dracula: “Why won’t you read my blog?”  I didn’t know what a blog was, to tell the truth, and even the explanation that it was a weblog made little impression on me until said Italian woman wrote some rather unkind things about the director of the program on her blog.   That got my attention, if only briefly.  Career suicide, I thought (wrongly).  And, How can she think that electronic diaries are going to change the publishing industry?

Well, I guess it’s clear who the idiot was on that one.  And frankly, career suicide in publishing before getting my job as a publicity assistant would have saved me eight miserable months.  But I digress.  And also, I want to be on the record as saying I love the publishing industry since I am hoping that one day it will publish my book.

John occasionally accuses me of being addicted to the Internet, which is really embarrassing.  And also slightly true.  But I figure it’s a better boredom cure and procrastination technique than eating, which was my old favorite way to entertain myself and kill time.  The ten pounds I’ve been able to keep off without exercising can be credited to the fact that I enjoy spending large swaths of time dicking around on the Internet (no, not that kind of dicking, you doublepervs!).

My first blog was Perez.  He did a lot for me: weaning me off US magazine, helping me unwind during a free period at school, providing me with pop-cultural knowledge in quick, easy to digest morsels.  And then, as obsessed as I was with seeing what was going on with Britney or Brangelina, I suddenly wasn’t.  Celebrity gossip seemed too redundant, too banal to read every day.  And half of the celebrities were people I’d never heard of: The Jonas Brothers, Shia LeBeouf.  So as quickly as I’d fallen for him, I was so over Perez.

Next came my phase of lurking on creative writing grad school blogs, where I’d look for ideal programs, nervously check up on everyone else’s application progress, and pray to find typos so that I’d know I was better than the competition.  But that, too, turned tedious.  People asked the same questions repeatedly, posted condescending replies, and got their feelings hurt by condescending replies.  Plus, the anxiety was contagious and I manufacture plenty of that on my own.

Political blogs are my most recent downfall.  It was debate season that got me hooked on Wonkette, Jezebel–not just politics, but culture and snark, too!–and The Huffington Post (which isn’t really a blog I suppose). In the several weeks leading up to the election I got minimal work done, as I scampered from Blog to newspaper to poll sites, obsessing over each new detail.  I actually had to make a rule for myself that I would only look at such sites during mealtimes, a rule which completely failed in the week before the election.  I thought it would stop post-election, but there are new political matters to obsess over–the cabinet, the financial crisis, where the Obama girls will go to school.  But at least I’ve cut way back.

And now my own blog, consuming in a different way.  Comments to read, stats to check, design and function elements to tweak.  Oh, and posts to write.  As pretty much all of you know, I’m trying to be a writer.  And yes, the book is going pretty well, thank you.  Grad school apps (and other things, see above) have been a bit of a distraction, but chapter four is coming along and I’ve written about 90 pages in total.  So yes, this blog might become a time suck, but I figure time spent writing is a good thing no matter what.  Or that’s what I’m telling myself.

In an effort to stave off any blog fatigue you might be feeling with my blog already, I promise to make the next post about something unrelated to blogging.  Oh, and I might even let that husband of mine have a say or make an appearance, since ostensibly this is a couple’s blog.

It should be noted that WordPress spellcheck doesn’t recognize the word blog.  Nor does it recognize WordPress.  A tragic, self-effacing irony.  Or a hint that blogging about blogging is wicked boring.


3 comments so far

  1. Michael on

    So what do you know about Villa Gesel?

  2. Julie on

    I subscribed to you!

  3. nina on

    HEY! I subscribed too. I always thought my middle name was KATHRYN until the 4th grade and I went to get my birth certificate. There it was KATRYN…. It might have as well been on a marquee. I thought it was my mom’s German accent that she couldn’t pronounce the H in KATHRYN! So there i was …my only claim to near normalcy was doomed in a flash. I was NINA KATRYN EIZENBERG. What’s in a name? Well darlin’ Leda…your blog is proof that the apple does not fall that far from the tree. As your Uncle Dan once quoted to me “there’s no such thing as normal and I’m just like everyone else!” Love, love, Nina

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