My blogging career has been going for just longer than one year in planetary time. I have this sense that, as with dogs who are counted in fractions of real years – I was taught one actual year is 7 dog years but that might have changed – blogging years are longer than real years. It’s because it has become so much a part of my routine that I must have been participating forever. And that word ‘routine’ fails to do justice to what I mean. It suggests commonplace, humdrum whereas (what’s with ‘whereas’ – you can take the boy out of the law but not the law out of the boy, I suppose) I’m still enjoying myself immensely.
I’ve found flash fiction for a start. I’ve embraced challenges and prompts and the competitive streak in me has been quietly pleased (YESSSS. EAT THAT SUCKERS) with the occasional highly commended.
My writing has undoubtedly improved.
I’ve found beta readers (and learnt what a beta reader is) and specialist help for my novel writing. I’ve found people willing to buy and review my book.
I’ve followed other bloggers who write on a whole host of subjects. I’ve learnt a lot about a lot.
Most of all I’ve been introduced to nice people. My English master, circa 1972, deplored ‘nice’ as an adjective. Too bland. No contours or depths. It is a shallow sort of compliment, floating on the surface of praise. But I think nice is apt. It is difficult in the flat relationships of the Internet to experience depths. It is easy to go missing if the subject in discussion is a bit awkward, a bit embarrassing, unlike in real time, real life.
And then I’ve met some real people behind the blogs and ‘nice’ no longer does justice to the charming, erudite, compassionate, passionate, funny, droll, downright lovely people who have emerged into my little four dimensions.
There must be a few class A wankers out there, of course, waiting to make a fool out of my on line judgements but they have eluded me so far. I have read a few posts and comments, on subjects as diverse as the UK election, religion, gun control, gay marriage, cricket and marmite that have made me pause, made me question my engagement in a particular debate but that is as bad as it has got.
Therefore, my current plan to take a little blogging break will be tough. I know I won’t lose my new found friends and that you will be very understanding and welcome me back, as back I will come. It’s not only Douglas MacArthur who will return.
And I know you will wish me well. I’m off walking and then holidaying in Scotland until 3rd July and it is the Textiliste’s challenge to stop blogging until I come home.
In truth, I may make a cameo appearance or two to keep up with the regular flash prompts and challenges. I may comment a little. But blogging will dwindle. Have fun without me!