But blogging’s interesting. As you noted, it’s not “fixed in stone.” It’s fluid and changeable. I used to feel guilty doing extensive revisions, back in the days before word processing – guilty for killing trees, marring that perfect sheet of paper with less-than-perfect words, etc. I’d carefully think out what I wanted to say, write it down, and that was that. The good thing about that was that it imposed a certain amount of discipline, to think before committing words to paper. The bad thing was, it didn’t allow room for the ideas to evolve and change over time. Then, too, it’s possible to overthink things, to where the final result is well-written, but not half as fresh or fun to read.

Blogging’s interesting in another way, though, too. I have yet to find my “voice” on Blogger, because I have this perception of there being millions of random people around the world reading it. Even though I can edit to my heart’s content, they’ll know – they’ll see the imperfect draft I was so eager to post and share with them. Will they like it? Hate it? Or worse, be bored to tears? (I can take constructive criticism, but I don’t like being responsible for drive-by yawnings.) By contrast, on Writing.com, my online journal is accessible only to “50,000 of my closest friends.” Now, realistically, only about 50 people read my journal on Writing.com, and maybe about 10 out of those random millions have ever stumbled onto my Blogger site. I know the numbers, because I have a counter installed there. Interestingly, the counter – the knowledge that my audience is somewhat more limited – makes it easier to write to them. Most do comment, so I feel I’m writing to friends – or at least to a friendly, receptive audience. It’s not at all important that they agree with me or love what I have to say, but it is important to me to know they’re reading, and to read what they’re thinking about what they’re reading. It’s the ones who don’t comment – at all – that leave me feeling unable to write. I don’t know what they want. I don’t care if the comments are negative – I really don’t. The only negative comment that ever gave me something approaching “writer’s block” was along the lines of “Oh my God, this is the most boring thing I’ve ever read. If I pay you, will you stop, please?” I’m ashamed to say that actually worked for about a week – until the check from dear old “Anonymous” bounced, and I felt free to post again.