what a blogger wants

I wasn’t sure for a long time why I did this. My second reaction to blogging, after my daughter set up my account, was that it looked like writerly fun. (My first reaction had been, “Journaling online, how sad”.) Later I waffled. Doing posts took energy I might be wasting in the long run.

I truly almost quit after three or four months, right before I began finding people I enjoyed. For me the crux became connecting. In limited ways, sure; in fewer dimensions. But real life, while often giving us eyes and voice and body language, is stingy on moments. Time flies. Work awaits. Quality rarely visits friendships where quantity is sparse.

Long ago, as a young mom just moved into the neighborhood, I nearly phoned a new acquaintance. I was certain she’d take time to chat with me, but I hated to bother her. It was too much risk, and I remained silent and alone.

People who shy away from cyber friendships worry about the snarky, rough types. They may look upon “mommy blogging” as fluffy or limp-wristed. But mom bloggers tend to belong to a group (including men) I characterize as basically kind. They’re thoughtful, creative people (sometimes snarky, but oh, well) who appreciate, despite its sizeable limitations, blogging’s benefits in letting us use our imaginations to know and be known.

I’ve been guessing I’d see articles about the good side of blogging. This Sunday’s New York Times has one here. In 2005 a young mom started a blog. Like many of us, she used a different name at first. Later she branched out, gained confidence, and became an inspiration here. Last month she and her husband were in a plane crash, and now friends in her blogging sphere are giving back. Her readers feel compelled to respond, not by tugs of social convention, but because they’ve been given what a blogger wants. They’ve connected.