I often want to be a once-a-week blogger. They are such cool cats!
You know, the folks who vow to write once a week and follow through on their pledge, year after blogging year.
They pick a day of the week. Say, Monday. Mimi’s Monday Musings. Or Tammy’s Tuesday Tossings. Or Wendy’s Wednesday Whisperings.
And they succeed. to. write. every. week.
People love ’em because they’re reliable. They are–excuse me, must reference Roget’s Thesaurus (except it’s gone incognito, so must search)–they are trustworthy, credible, destined, promised, reliant, predictable.
People wake up on Thursday morning and say: Today is the day that Thaddea writes her amazing blog and I must go read it! Their brains register it like this: Thursday. Thaddea. Blog. Then their fingers scurry to look and see. YES! There it is, like clockwork. The reliable once-a-week blog post.
I am trying to write this in a humorous way, but it’s true. I often long to be like my blogging friends who write with such a definitive predictable schedule. My husband writes a weekly column in the local newspaper with such fierce dedication to regularity and paycheck. For 42 years now he’s published every single week.
One can witness the benefits of this: people fully expect and wait for said column/blog and are not disappointed. It can also create stress, perhaps, because one MUST find something to write about. And something rarely fails to appear. Perhaps one spends the week musing in the background: what shall I write about? And the words spill themselves onto the blank page to create amusing, educational, information or personal stories.
I have not been able to succeed at this venture until this very moment. Last Monday I wrote a blog post. And now Monday rolls around and–wa la! Another blog post. Wouldn’t it be nice if Monday became My Monday Majestic Musings?
Alas, it probably shall be an unrealized dream. Because something in me wants to flow. It wants to birth an idea, inspiration, amusement and allow it to hatch like a brown-and-white speckled egg. It wants to break through amazing with yellow chicken feathers–always unpredictable! always surprising! always you-never-know-which-day. always you-never-know when she’s gonna disappear or appear. always a fairy feather away from knowing anything with certainty.
(I did blog every day for a year in 2009-2010. Perhaps this 365-day reliability birthed this desire for freedom from deadlines and appearances.)
I also sometimes long to write about predictable subjects. Don’t you love when you know what you’re in for? You visit so-and-so’s blog and know you’ll read about spirituality. About their beautiful dog. About their political opinions. About their humorous thoughts. About their garden. About wildlife, nature, creative stories, delightful poetry.
Now people might think this here blog is reliable, but I feel it’s all over the map. One minute you’re writing about a thesaurus, followed by a long leisurely jaunt down memory lane to a local point jutting into Lake Superior. Sometimes it’s about cutting wood, but the next minute meditation. Shall we discuss a Cuisinart food processor? Or emotional feelings? Dangerous volcanoes?
Seriously, Kathy, can’t you stick to a topic like Lake Superior or your little house in the big woods? Why must you ramble all over the map, hither and yon? Be reliable, can’t you?
The truth of the matter is this: Even though part of me longs to write more reliably in both number of blogs and subjects, the majority of me chooses freedom. The freedom to write three times a week and then disappear for nine months. To follow the Muse wherever she leads. To wax and wane like the predictable unpredictable moon.
(But lest you think I am opposed to longevity and regularity and reliability: not true. In two days we will have been married 42 years. I held one job for 28 years and another for 32 years. We’ve tended and nurtured and planted deep roots on our land for 37 years. Reliability happens, readers.)
It’s just that this blog is a space where words appear unexpectedly. Where someone waves a magic wand and a fairytale appears. Or a serious longing. Or tears of grief. Where seeds sprout and tomato plants wither on the vines. Where anything can happen and I haven’t the slightest idea what will shimmer or dissolve next.
I want to be a reliable, predictable and trustworthy blogger…is that true? Perhaps it’s only a pipe dream. Because I also prize the unexpected, unanticipated, unpredicted and unforeseeable.
What about you, my reliable and out-of-the-box readers? Where do you generally fall on the continuum?