A Year Online

A year ago, on my birthday, I sat at Frost and composed my first blog entry. A Luddite at work had that morning sent me a link to his new blog. Coleman has a blog? I stopped by his office and expressed my astonishment that he, of all people, had started a blog. In his sardonic way, he told me, "I realized that there are at least a million people out there who have blogs. If any dummy can do it than I ought to be able to start one."

I looked up his site and then I clicked on a few more, and by the time I bought myself a bowl of soup and a glass of wine for that birthday lunch, I had made my own plans. I thought it would be good for me professionally (I could learn about RSS feeds and html coding and posting videos). But I'd been wanting to write more and here was a way to stay committed to a more regular writing practice. That I could give to myself.

And then I just started writing. I've always carried a journal with me and there have always been days when I've composed essays and poems and short stories in response--to the day's news, to my mom's phone call, to my children's bedtime intimacies. I keep these bits and pieces in paper journals stuffed into desk drawers and under beds and in closet boxes near my shoes. My goal this year is to bring them back together for some revision and addition, for making them into something more, and finally submitting them, somewhere.

I still keep a handwritten journal but now I have a year of writing here at my fingertips. A year and over 200 posts. I've met new people, read lots of good stories, been inspired by great photography, and heard a lot of terrific responses, either in a post comment, or by e-mail or phone from friends who read but don't like to comment. Thanks for that.

I might waste a little more work time by all my online reading, but I've been richer for it. I like the voices in blogs. They are un-branded (usually) and seem to come straight out of that writer's curiosity and imagination. The content doesn't seem manipulated in that "what will readers want" kind of way that often really is code for "what do we want readers to want." Some blogs have a strong taxonomy where things are categorized for easy viewing, like here. Some blogs are often completely random, clearly cut from the stuff of life--like a good conversation with a friend over wine, as in this post.

One of my favorite blogs is Paper Cuts, a blog about "books and other printed matter" by Dwight Garner. His posts have inspired me as an editor, including this one on working-class critics. I'm reading my way now through more working-class stories and novels and collections because, more than ever, this IS a divided America and I want to do my part to break the class system in publishing.

And then there's Sassmaster, who I think is hilarious and also kind enough to share my passion for the chorizo and egg torta at Manny's Tortas. I remember thinking I'd like to know the Sass after reading this. She makes me realize how lucky I am to have my mom here and now. And it also brought to mind: Love memory. I want to plant lots of them.

I've had a chance to reconnect with an old friend through her posts at Juliliquoy. And to keep up with her son--and now daughter--though I've never met the two. My own kids are older now so what joy it is to read the Da Schmoo, a classic kid if you ask me.

When this writer took the summer off from his blog, I actually had some Drama Mater withdrawals. He's a fine writer and a generous soul and I often look at St. Paul through his eyes. Many of my favorite posts are gone, now that he has started the new Methods of Escape, but here's an example of a line that resonates, one he wrote about walking down Selby Avenue toward the Cathedral: "Odd how one can feel alone at a moment like this; by which I don't mean lonely, but as if this whole thing had been staged simply for you."

I watch "What Not to Wear," but I've been getting my best fashion tips from this dude: The Sartorialist. Nearly every day I get to absorb a little street fashion. Without the preaching and screeching. Just people looking good. I went out to get a few vintage cardigans after seeing this lovely shot.

And speaking of a lovely daily treat. I used to buy a handmade caramel for 50 cents every day after lunch. And then I started clicking on From a Farther Room and that seemed enough to satisfy my cravings. I loved this shot so much I bought it from the photographer/writer, Michael Hartford.

My kids have been hounding me for a dog. They haven't succeeded but this post from Dooce 'bout started me swooning for a mutt of my own.

So you see, it's been a rich year. Not to mention all the events in my life, which, if you've been reading, you know all about. Sunrise, sunset. Another year. Thanks to you all for making it a year to remember.