Last October, I was interviewed - along with some proper bloggers - by India Knight for the Sunday Times Magazine. About this blog. I didn't mention it here. I was up to my ears in pre-natal blues; the article came out when I was going through the very worst of it, and I wasn't capable of feeling happy, or worthy, or excited about it. Mentioning it here felt tantamount to vile self-promotion, and we're brought up not to show off in this grey, miserable country of Victorian values. I think I had one morning on which I turned to Ian and said, in a daze, "I was in the Sunday Times. That ... that's really cool." Ian nodded eagerly, then the fog came down again and I went back to giving myself a hard time until the baby came out.
One of the interview questions was: "What don't you blog about?" It's a good one. You get to answer it today.
My answer was family - outside this house - and social life. If people are in my everyday, face-to-face life, I don't write about them. They should be able to sit at a table with me without worrying that anything they say will be taken down and used as blog fodder. If I break bread or open a bottle of wine with you, that becomes part of your life, and while I have fuck-all respect for my own privacy, I have tons of respect for yours.
Also? There's an element of selfishness about it. Have you ever been on holiday with a camera, and realised you should just put that camera down and commit your holiday to memory instead of film? You can't show your memory to other people like you can holiday snaps, but you can't capture a good feeling on camera, either, and your memories are clearer when they're all you rely on. Sometimes I don't write here about the best times in my life for that same reason. Does this make sense? I'm trying really hard to write this post without sounding like a total nob. I'm not sure if it's working.
Eden got me thinking about this, because she wasn't in my New York round-up blog post, although she was my roommate for the weekend and that was one of the key things that made the weekend wonderful, staying at the Chelsea together and sharing three days of heroin abuse, violent stabbings and throwing novels out of the tenth-floor windows. Eden lives 5,500 miles away, so we never get to see each other; instead, we communicate daily via the postage-stamp-sized chat window on a Scrabble website. Her company is like a seriously good cup of tea for the soul, so the total lack of mention in my New York post was inversely proportional to how good it was to see her.
Before I left for New York, I made a remark in that eyestrainingly tiny Scrabble chat window about the Internet as opposed to real life, and immediately questioned it, as the Internet IS real life. The fact that it shines out of a screen used to put a surreal cinematic gloss on it for me, but while Blogher in San Francisco in 2008 felt like going to meet celebrities, going to New York this year was a trip to see friends.
In the last few years, dozens of people have come out of the shiny screen and met me for walks around London, or come to our house to be fed, or fed us and put us up at their houses, and there are still more I want to open a bottle of wine with. If you've met me, then read Whoopee for some mention and found none, I hope this post explains why. I will only write about meeting you if you've put it on your blog first and I know it's okay. Those of you I've met are all bloody amazing. Interesting people, with stories and IQs and talents and hearts of gold and accents I could listen to all day. I've no idea why you read this drivel, but I'm glad you do.
"What don't you blog about?" is a really good question, though, and I'd forgotten about it until this week. What do you leave out? You can tell us. You can wear a Groucho Marx disguise while you answer. I will switch anonymous commenting back on, just this once.
(Update: I've turned it on again. I get so tired of deleting Japanese comments and cockspam. Sorry.)
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48 comments:
My dad and his wife. 'Cause I said some (perhaps justifiably) mean things about them and they asked (read: told) me not to. Also, things that don't feel like my story to tell. So, I'll go on and on about my dog's illness and death and I'll post a memorial to someone else's dog but I won't go into any details about how that dog departed because it's not my story to tell. This is a terrible example. But in order to have a really good example I'd have to tell someone else's story wouldn't I?
Having once blogged, pissed out of my mind, at 2am, I vowed never to write about relationships again. The consequences were HORRENDOUS, and you can't take it all back once it's out there.
Which is why my blog is so dull now. I would love to write about My Bloody Awful Life, but just allude these days.
I don't blog about my marriage or even really about my dude. My blog was wayyyy more interesting and funny when I was single and sleeping around, but alas, these are the tradeoffs of partnering up.
Kizz, I know what you mean. Especially true of sad stories. I always worry, when talking about someone else's sad story, that I sound like a douche trying to turn it into my own tragedy somehow.
Anonymous, OOF. And you've made me really curious as to what you wrote.
I don't blog about my relationships. I will mention when I spent a weekend visiting someone, but don't go into details. I definitely don't blog about work, as I've watched way too many people get burned that way. Don't write about school, either.
So, really, my blog is mostly about knitting, with little bits of my life thrown in. Good thing there are people out there actually interested in that sort of thing!
well, i do post about having to produce a stool sample so you'd think i have very few limits, but i find that, like you, i rarely talk about my real life that features other people unless they say something particularly hilarious (in which case i ask their permission) or i mention them in passing, using just their first initials.
since i gave my blog address out to some people, i now have to self-edit a bit more. still, i hope my mother never ever finds it, because the sheer number of times that the word "fuck" pops up would make her despair of my ever becoming a lady.
when I was blogging, I didn't have a conscious filter of what I wrote about, but I always tried to be sensitive to the feelings of those I mentioned. If I couldn't be honest and still write about it, I didn't write about it.
Being one of the lucky people who have met you, had I still been blogging, I think I would have written about how lovely a person you are, how cute Esme is and how I envy Ian his mustache and cap collection.
While my blog isn't really that often about personal stuff the podcast with Fourstar can be and I've filtered that out from time to time.
I removed a story I told about my parents sex life. And a couple of times I've cut out things that we've said that were a joke but might sound a bit mean if it was about you.
It's a particularly interesting topic to me because of course at the time it's just a free flowing conversation and then later I'm actually removing it rather than not writing it so it's quite obvious.
Oh and the boring bits (hopefully)!
I stopped altogether... but then I just couldn't write about any of the real stuff and my imaginary life just wasn't funny. God that makes me sound sad!
My blog is attached to my business, so I try to be very careful about what I write: some people take offence at anything, and I don't want bad impressions being spread around. However, I do write about my husband and son sometimes, and post photos of them. I find it hard to separate them from the stories I tell about my work. Plus, my son is just plain cute, and my blog is all about cute.
I think I'm the opposite of you - it's the times with other people that I blog. Perhaps partly because that's about the only time I do anything. I don't feel I get out much. But my friends are really into my blog (see our Come Dine With Me series for example) and I think sometimes it serves as me blogging/recording memories on their behalf.
What I don't talk about is the stuff in my head, the stuff you talk to your best friends about over chocolate cake. My parents read my blog, which is fine, but there are times where I'd value advice/thoughts from my internet friends and strangers, but really don't want them knowing what I'm thinking about - especially as we're still sharing a roof.
I don't blog about my adult children, other people (unless it's complimentary and about where we went and not what they did or said), work, choir, theatre group... um... now I have to figure out what I DO blog about.
Since my blog was discovered by a local of whom I'm not particularly fond, I have felt very inhibited. I keep thinking I should start an anonymous blog, but that would require... um... work. So not gonna happen any time soon.
You're fantastic and insightful and how often do those two things go together? I'm so glad you're back. And sounding happier! Yay!
My nephew was killed in Iraq in 2005. I don't blog about that. In fact my husband and I had a long discussion about it over the weekend in regards to my blog re-do. I just don't want what I write to inadvertently cause pain to my family.
I agree with author! author! It's very good to have you back amongst us and perceptibly on a happier plane/plain (not sure of spelling here!).
As for me, I'm the same as everyone else here - will allude to husband's family but won't give details as (a) they'd hate it and (b) not really my story to tell no matter how much it impinges on my own. And although I have the juiciest conversations with girlfriends in real life, I really cant write about them online as then they'd never tell me anything ever again!
I tend not to write about the times my family or friends piss me off. If a stranger pisses me off, no problem - I'll blog about it. But not if it's someone I actually know.
Which is a shame really, since writing lets off steam and if you are justified in your anger you have the commentators who will tell you so.
For the most part, I don't write about my relationship with Seth. I mean, I write down funny conversations or any situation where Seth bears witness to something that is embarrassing to ME. But the quiet moments, the little moments, sex, cute pictures...I keep that for myself.
I also don't write about my fake leg. It's plastic, smelly and rather moist - what else is there to know?
Anonymous as before here...It was a simple one-liner, naming names who had only been referred to by nickname before. As what I'd done dawned on me, I can honestly say I've never felt worse.
But bizarrely, it was quite cathartic.
Lately? I don't really write, so I guess I don't write about anything. :) Before that I avoided speaking about my family since my sister occasionally read the site, and calling her current husband not so nice words would probably make her cry.
I read that post with the KISS makeup and New York and just want to give you a hug. I'm sending it from Philadelphia. You can share it with the kids if you want too, but that's only because it's yours and you can do as you please with it. Glad that some time away has lead to a better life at home. Also, if you choose to move to the states, we have a great and vast wealth of internet available teas.
I don't really have any limits when it comes to the things I write about, but that's only because I write for me, as a way to get stuff out of my head, so I don't really care about entertaining anyone else. But I am exceedingly careful about never having anything identifying that could link to me (or anyone I might be writing about) in the real, three-dimensional world. I don't think I've ever mentioned the city or the state or even the general part of the country I live in. I do not refer to people by first names, or initials, or even made-up names. I've never gone into any kind of detail about work -- in fact, that might be my only limit, that I never really talk about work except in the most offhand "I was at the office and started thinking about {fill in whatever thing it might have been}".
I'm always dumbfounded by how many people are happy to share pictures of themselves, their full names, where they live, with the general anonymous public. I would never, ever do that; I have such fussy old-fashioned notions of privacy and anonymity. (Though it's nice that most people do not share these notions, I suppose, since it means I get to end up randomly feeding squirrels with them in public parks.)
I ramble in ninja gibberish, really. naught too personal or risky about myself or others for many of the reasons you mention. also, that's not what ninja is about.
I read whoopee because of all the things you name on this post but also because you pen stories in an extremely skillful manner and make me piss myself laughing more often than not (my urinary incontinence may have something to do with that, though.)
you describe yourself as having a heart of gold and a wrong sense of humour. well... that's it, innit?
p.s. congrats on the interview, man. the sunday times!
There were a lot of really good stories about some really decadent and fun trouble I had the first few years that I lived in New York... I was always aching to tell, but I knew better. I'm still glad I didn't, but I'd love to write them anonymously somewhere someday.
For me, the hard thing is, my blogging life led (lead?), in a roundabout way, to my writing professionally 8 hours a day, so by the time I get home every night I'm like, "Um. Three people read this. Two of them are my parents. Why bother?" But. I would never blog about fights I've had with others, nor my relationships, unless it was to say, "I have an awesome best friend/family/husband. End of story." Never post anything you wouldn't want to see on the front page of the newspaper, or have to read back on a witness stand in court.
I gave India your name. Did I ever even warn you about that? I hope so. Probably not. That article actually catapulted me into a total shitstorm with my employer that I still haven't emerged from. Aaaah, hindsight.
Anyway, as a result of that and various other idiocies of mine, I can now blog about so little I have a secret blog for fulminating that I share with my friend.
Erm.... nothing. Coz I've virtually ground to a halt. My parents found my blog, then Harry's nursery found it, then half the village found it... then I just gave up and put it on Facebook so I didn't feel like people were actually stalking me. And now I've gone back to work, and while Work don't know - yet - enough people know other people to ensure they will read at some point. Even the local paper knows I blog, damnit.
I can't write about my marriage, although God knows, there's enough going on there. I can't write about my work. I can't write about my friends. I write about my son, while trying to remember I'm the guardian of his privacy. All I can legitimately write about is me, and I'm not that bloody fascinating. Everytime I sit down and think 'I must blog!' then suddenly a good book or a bath seems like a better option instead.
I have considered a secret blog, but... yeah. Busy. Too lazy. Perennially tired.
Having said all that, I'm madly enthusiastic about the friends and experiences that blogging has brought to me, and would do it all again in an instant! Just... without my name. And face. And mention of the didelphys. Etc.
i started blogging on lj. it's a "friends only" blog. i share pictures of the kids, but still use super sekrit names for them. employers are referred to by nicknames, as well.
as for my public blog...i edit that quite a bit. i'm quite kriptical and shitz. the one thing i really haven't posted about is my dad's illness and death. i blogged about it some, but i was afraid of having a doom and death blog which wouldn't be a whole heck of a lot of fun for any of the 3.5 readers that come to my public blogs, and which would result in too many [[[hugs]]] on my lj.
after a few rough starts, i think i might start up again. possibly tuesday.
So that's why blogs seem to have become so boring to read? Everyone's slowly realised that they can't actually very safely blog about anything at all that is remotely sincere or interesting...
Sad really... :(
The only things I ever really wanted to write about were the challenges and shitstorms. Things I shouldn't really share with the world. So I never blogged publicly.
I've tried from time to time to use an online journal that doesn't publish, but prefer my pen and paper.
Yay, anonymous! Feels like a warm blankie. :)
My blog was intense but short-lived. I was always painfully conscious about what I revealed, but that cautious, private aspect of my online persona is just like who I am in real life. I hadn't even given the link to any family or friends except my partner, so technically I should've felt free to write about nearly anything!
If only I could've had the same restraint in regard to drunk late night text messages... made a few mistakes there.
There is very little I don't blog about, since I blog anonymously. I am the one who will get a raised eyebrow over the dinner table and a stern "Don't blog about this. Seriously. I'll kick your ass."
I do use some measure of common sense. I don't write things that are hurtful. Very often. Unless, you know, they really deserve it. Just kidding ! (not really).
this is such an interesting question...and such complications to get to an answer! That whole real world/internet dichotomy/symbiosis thing is a bit of a mindfuck, I find.
In other news, yay! I'm so thrilled you're feeling like blogging again - I do so enjoy what you have to say. That, and you have the power to make drink come out of my nose from laughing.
My husband's affair. I can't write how it has zapped the ability for me to be truly happy as a partner to him, and yet I can't give up on life as a family. I wish I could write about that. Will time heal us? Can I really truly be happy in this relationship? I know he's sorry and contrite, but how do reach a point where I feel fulfilled? Because I'd really like this amazing little family not to crumble to pieces...I'm sure if you read it, you'd think my blog is as boring as melba toast. Lucky for the world there is yet another bloomin' blog.
I didn't blog about meeting you. In the loo at the Volstead.
I don't blog anything I would be too embarrassed to tell to a stranger on a bus; or anything that would make my parents upset with me.
I think this means that I don't complain about other people very much in my blog, but I am happy to take the piss out of myself.
I don't really filter the gross or the sad. What I do filter are my work frustrations (coworkers read the blog) and things that I think might upset my near and dear.
I have blogged a little about the emotional hell my ex put me through, but I've also filtered that and have never named him beyond his first initial. As cathartic as it has been at times to give him a public "fuck you", it seems the more appropriate thing to allow him some degree of anonymity. After all, he knows what he did and will have to carry that whether the rest of the world knows who he is or not.
IRL friends, family (outside of my children and partner) and extended family. Because like you said, I will share my life, but they didn't sign up to have theirs shared.
Everyone's said it havent they? It's all got so mainstream, nobody can make pertinent observations about in-bred neighbours or family for fear of hurt and litigation.
Now feels like writing a diary that one's mother might read - all mostly mundane safe stuff with code for the juicy bits. And crochet and cupcakes are lovely, but......
This is the most enlightening posts I've read... ever... on the subject of blogging or more correctly Not blogging. Between the post and the comments... it says it all.
I agree with all of it. Knowing you are not alone is a big part of blogging.
My blog was "discovered" early on and passed from there to people I would rather stay in my past.
I even find myself hesitant to tell the irony of it in this comment. But would any of these antagonists travel over here and read comment # 40 or so.... I doubt it... none have an attention span that long.
I have given serious thought about doing a closed blog and send invitations out to just my followers. I even set one up when one of my posts hit the fan.
But it does take the fire out of you to write... maybe this post is the encouragement I needed.
It was that article that brought me to your blog! I've been reading and lurking ever since.
I love it when you de-lurk.
I don't blog about my family (though lord knows there's plenty of fodder there). It's partly out of respect for their privacy, but also because I shudder to think what would happen to our relationship if I said what I really thought. Generally, when I've been silent on my blog for several days at a time, it's because I'm mulling through family stuff and can't think of another thing to write about. I try hard not to blog about my in-laws (though, again, PLENTY of fodder), but sometimes I slip. As with my own family, blog silence can also be chalked up to in-law stuff going on. And finally, because I'm on the ever-feisty academic job market, I don't write about things that would turn a potential employer away. What does that leave me with? Hmm... Lately, not much!
I have to say I struggle over that one. The what do I leave out and what do I mention thing. I will say that only one person I know in "real" life even knows I have a blog. My husband doesn't know, my family (sure as hell!) doesn't know. And yet I don't usually write about personal things - it's mostly about knitting. Aside from that one time I complained about my mother and the knitted gifts I've given her (which she either ignores, complains about or gives away - why do I even bother? was the gist of it). I think in order to continue blogging I need to answer this question - what do I really want to write about? Thanks for the food for thought. And by the way thanks so much for all your laugh-out-loud posts! I love your blog. LOVE it.
I will not, on pain of death, complain about my children, because they are of an age where they know about my blog and could read it if they wanted to. Knowing I am annoyed with them is one thing - thinking that all my friends now think less of them is quite another.
I've never blogged about work, or how much I hate my mother-in-law or issues I've gone through with my family. I don't blog about arguments with friends, past or present. I don't really even blog about my day-to-day experiences where I live because I hate where I live and all of the people I encounter but I don't want my bitterness to reflect poorly on my husband due to his job. We've had a lot of growing pains and life changes but I don't think it's helpful to spew it out to the world.
Soooo...I blog about where I've traveled. I blog about small observations I make about my children or any little personal craft projects I'm working on. I blog about childhood memories. These things aren't as funny or as entertaining or as interesting as all of the things I don't write about. I've always written my blog as if my mother was reading it because she did, even if she would never admit it.
Now that she has passed away, I suppose I try and provide little pieces of my voice so that my girls might be able to hear me after I go on. However simple and mundane they may be.
There's not much I won't blog about although I'll generally spare you way too much detail about anything too personal to me (eg. medical; what happens in bed beyond reading and sleeping) or my family. Hell this is an online diary/journal/memoirs and you write the life history of your mind and body (not to mention everyone else's) in your diary! So everything has to be fair game. You have been warned. :-)
http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/gadgets-and-tech/news/google-chief-my-fears-for-generation-facebook-2055390.html
Pre-blog times, I was on a group list that had a public website. We all posted a bio on the site. It was pretty generic, or so I thought until my brother said he'd been showing my parents the internet and searched for my name and came up with my bio. I immediately panicked, wondering if it was "safe" for my parents to read (thankfully it was and they are still talking to me). That was about 10 years ago and the experience dictated my current limits: don't publicly diss anybody, esp. parents.
While I'll post bits about my husband and our son, I rarely post pictures of them and I don't think I've ever mentioned them by name.
They play a far greater role in my life than you'd know by reading my blog, but I feel their personal stories belong to them, and not to me to broadcast to the internet at large.
I don't mind if my blog reads as if I'm telling you everything, but it's really a rather small window I pull back the curtains on.
When I think about it, I think most of the bloggers I enjoy the most are that way.
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