So a blog—
For the record, this is the first
blog, journal, or anything that I’ve used to share my thoughts with the world since
I studied music as a college undergrad. Twitter
and Facebook don’t really count. Honest posts
are rarely deep and can only give glimpses of personality. I never graduated with a degree in music, but
rather with a BA in English. It’s been nearly
ten years since I studied music, and while I can see the person I would become
in those posts, I am definitely not the same person.
Since that was at the forefront
of my thoughts, I wanted to give you examples of what I’m talking about. But I won’t. Feel the sigh of relief from the
masses. Why won’t I? Perhaps the reason is because I can’t find
those posts. Maybe I know where to find
them, but am too embarrassed to share.
Or maybe I couldn't write about it in a way that wouldn't drive me
insane with boredom. And if I get bored
writing it, I can imagine what your interest level will be.
And that brings up the problem
with the first post of any blog, series of articles, or the first chapter in a
novel. How do I introduce myself, the
heroes and villains, or anything else adequately and entertainingly enough to
spark your interest? Let’s be honest, there
is a sense of utter arrogance whenever anyone writes— don’t argue, it’s true
—since the written word is intended for posterity by design. Why else record
everything from Oedipus Rex to Aristotle to quantum physics? I have to prove that my opinions are worth
your time and effort.
That’s not easy.
So how do I describe myself (a man
with a desert-dry sense of humor), my interests (comics, writing, and
woodworking), and my intent (to create conversations based on opinions, writing
excerpts, and observations) in such a manner that is interesting? By far and large, this is one of the hardest
posts I’ll ever write. Proverbial chest
pounding doesn't come easy to me. It
makes me uncomfortable, and I blush like a tomato— kind of ruins the impression
I’m trying to give. At least that’s what
happens verbally. But I’m a writer, and
you can’t see how red my face will get.
Instead, I have style. And style
means all. Which begs the question of
how. How should I write it? I could always do what we all did in first
grade— except maybe Shakespeare.
Hi. My name is Nick. My house is white. I like cake.
I like comics.
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera—
God, that is dull. It’s boring, dry, and as informative as that
textbook you slept on in high school biology.
The one that I used as a pillow was, at least, that tedious. I could always add adverbs, adjectives, and other
bits of grammar which liven up the English language. Of course, it would help if I could actually
identify all those fiddly bits. I hear
that four out of five dentists can’t identify teeth either. Maybe I just made that up.
I could state that cake is
nothing but a delivery method for frosting (props to Alton Brown for that one).
It’s just as informative, but much more entertaining. And isn’t that part of what I’m going for
here? Entertainment. But stealing that line lacks originality—
that distinct whatchamacallit which makes everyone’s writing unique.
Am I unique? Is my writing unique? Is anything we write original? I already know what some people think, but that’s
a metaphysical debate for another day. Not
to mention one that could very well create headaches for everyone
involved. Cake isn't original, and
rarely unique, but people still love it.
How to tell you about my emotional connection to cake is a
conundrum. But we’re not talking about
writing. I have plenty to say on writing
styles, critiquing, and each little writing niche— every writer does. Let’s stop lying to ourselves here; we are
discussing cake. And damn it, now I want
some.
Excuse me while I
go put on some pants.
