dumb beginnings

Well, here I am again. This is approximately the fourth or fifth time I’ve tried to start a blog. Right now, I don’t have a clear reason for beginning one. I guess I’m indulging in this because it’s always been a fantasy goal of mine. Writers from the generation preceding my own, such as Blake Butler, Ken Baumann and Richard Chiem, just to name three, were able to gain exposure and a following by posting regularly on their respective blogs. As far as I know, Ken Baumann is the only one who still regularly posts on his blog, but I could be mistaken. Considering this, what kind of effect could a blog by an unknown writer create when semi-known writers barely use them themselves? I don’t know, and I’m going to try and stop thinking about it. I’m just going to go forward and post, even just for my own sake. I’ve always struggled to connect with people, let alone on the internet, so I don’t exactly foresee myself interacting with others on this platform, or even be able to gain any sort of following. But I’m comfortable with surprises, so we’ll see what happens in ensuing time.

Yesterday I finished Jesus’ Son by Denis Johnson, distracted though I have been. After a solid two years of creative stalling, I escaped my self-imposed rut and began writing my first novel. Something inside me burst forth and filled an entire page with ease. After showing what I had written to a couple of friends, and they having positive responses to it, I’m much more confident in the quality of my writing. What’s more important though, to me, is that I’m enjoying what I’ve been writing, and I’m able to critique and improve it without becoming enraged. Tomorrow I’ll have to write about how I felt when reading Jesus’ Son, but tonight I just wanted to get a post onto my profile, beginning the intent to post something each day, no matter the quality or caliber of what’s being written. If nothing else is achieved by it, I’ll be happy with the communication with myself. Maybe I’ll read War and Peace next. I don’t know if anyone really talks to one’s self without feeling demented, but maybe it’d be good to communicate freely and openly with myself. and maybe others if they choose to respond.

Anyway, enough blathering.

Farewell until tomorrow.


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