So, I did it. I joined Substack like all the cool kids and published my first post. Or I published my first edition. Or installment. Or letter. Or whatever it is. Because I’m not entirely sure how Substack works. What I do know is that it’s relatively easy to set up if you just wantContinue reading “Find Me on Substack”
Lately, though, I miss just blogging. Typing. Not for readers, not for followers, not for anyone. Just writing for me.
Notes on editing, writing, and working — and a Q&A with writer Richard Gilbert, who recently published “Why I Hate My Dog” on Longreads.
I’ve needed a more private space to write. I’ve enjoyed having a readership here over the years, but always facing outward — imagining a mass of people on the other side of my screen — continues to paralyze me. It’s not that I’m done with blogging. But I need to write for myself again, to write without thinking, to write and not have to answer to anyone. Sometimes it’s hard to do this when you have all these followers who say they read you because you have something to say. Or because they look up to you as some sort of model for blogging.
Our three minutes is up. We don’t share our work aloud. I ask if anyone free-writes by hand like this regularly, and no one raises their hand. I tell them, and I remind myself, that we should allow ourselves this private time to write. That despite a life that unfolds on the internet, we can still write with no intent to publish.
I’d realized that having two separate blogs — this one for occasional personal essays and that one as a traditional blog — wasn’t quite what I wanted. While I was blogging again — yay! — I felt fragmented. And while I like a fragmented web in some ways, I don’t like it in the context of my own home. So, here’s what I did.