This past weekend, Labor Day weekend, Laine and I spent time with a bunch of friends, many of whom write. I admitted that I had this blog and two people asked me why a blog, especially since I don't have a ton of readers. (My readership may have jumped up to five after this weekend.)
I mean, I could just write things in longhand, in a journal and leave them there. I could write on a computer, print them out, hand them to Laine to read. (Or not) I could just write on a computer and leave the writings on a hard drive, where no one would ever read them, but nearly nine years ago, I started this blog.
If I think about it, I think that I made this quasi-public place to write because it would make me think about an audience. Thinking that I have to write to someone, means that someone, even if imaginary, has to understand what I'm writing. This enforces a certain sort of discipline. I have to be clear, if I have the assumption that someone is going to read this and won't have a chance to ask me what I meant.
But to be honest, I use blogging as a place to think. I found that insight in a 2007 observation when I was apologizing to who knows what for not blogging more.
I guess that if it's a place to think, the person I should apologize to is myself. And I should do it more often.
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