Why I Might Blog, Or Not

(All links are safe for work). It’s not that I’m hoarding what writing talent I have for work. Yes, once you start getting paid (however little it might be) to write, you may have trouble getting psyched to tap out anything that won’t at least potentially lead to a payday. And yes, I want to make sure that I save anything newsworthy for work. I doubt my editors would appreciate it very much if I broke a story on the West Roys, and since our own blogs are so topically broad, what’s left over for this one? Rants, which are boring; making fun of people, which is lame; and my personal life, which nobody wants to read about. More importantly, do I want people reading about it? The only greater failure than blogging shittilywould be blogging as therapy. Honestly, the main reason I’ve been mum on this blog is because I’m terrified that I’ll say something that might adversely affect my so-called career. I’m still trying to find the line between work and not-work personas, and I can’t help but think some things are best not shared in a public forum. For an example of the kind of personal unveiling I want to avoid, listen to this. I mean, what would my legions of loyal readers (or, say, prospective literary agents) think if they knew that the same guy penning erudite features on gangsta skateboarders or pickpocket cops or throwback cross-country coaches also chuckles over lowbrow YouTube clips? I know, I know, nobody cares, and I probably shouldn’t care, either, but people who read blogs (read: bloggers) can be really petty when they want to hate you, and it can be very annoying. And since I don’t believe in blogging anonymously, as it usually ends badly, this is a bit of a conundrum. (Anyway, Tyler’s already plastered my full name on the blog—thanks, dude).

So, I’ll keep trying to figure out how to participate and I’m sure you’ll await each of my posts with bated breath.