There’s a New York and London comedy night called Cringe where members of the audience are invited on stage to read aloud their childhood diaries entries or angst-ridden teenage poetry. A head-in-hands humiliation jam, it’s bearable (and hilarious) because we can all enjoy laughing at our younger self-indulgent ramblings safe in the knowledge that now, we are grown ups.
In my opinion writing a blog is not much different to keeping a diary, just with a bit more subject focus. (Though my teenage diaries were pretty focused on boys and whether they fancied me or my bf Alison). But the thing that’s really self-indulgent about a blog is that posts are written in the expectation that other people will read them. You’ve got to be pretty confident to put yourself out there like that. And have something to say.
So this is why I have never, thus far been able to bring myself to put post to blog. I’ve long wanted to take up diary writing again – for posterity if nothing else – but quite frankly haven’t been able find the time or motivation to write something just for myself. As Warren Beatty said in In Bed With Madonna: “She doesn’t want to live off camera. Why would you say something if it’s not on camera?” Again and again I’ve been tempted by the blogsphere (excuse me while I get used to the lingo), but kept putting it off because I worried I didn’t have anything to say.
Then the other night lying awake the other night it suddenly struck me. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, I have too much to say. I’m always lying awake at night thinking of little tid bits I’d love to share with the world (you lucky things). Ideas I wouldn’t even try to get commissioned, but hate to just lose. But apparently the key to a good blog is a passion for a narrow subject field, something I just don’t have. How could I possibly write about parenting and not knitting? Or wax lyrical on local restaurants but not mention a good book I’ve just read. I want to blog it all!
So in the spirit of liberation here stands my first ever blog post. Will I keep it up? Hard to say. Will anyone read it? Who cares – my mum and dad will.