Into the Blogosphere we go!

Like much of modern social networking—tweeting/video diaries/FB status updates—blogging strikes me as a vain enterprise. No matter how you cut it, at some point every blogger decides they’re important enough to warrant an outside reader’s investment of time. These writers assume they possess the power to entertain or educate. When we stumble across a blogger’s sexual escapades or struggle with cancer or baking tips, if these writers are successful, we forgive them their vanity. Their ego played to our desire for knowledge or catharsis or voyeurism, and now it’s a mutual exchange: our patronage for their posts. A win-win.

But sometimes it’s a lose-lose. I’ll read entries comparable to those painful videos on youtube, the figurative and literal equivalent of people entertaining themselves by making faces in the mirror. We’re obsessed with our individual selves. That can’t be helped. You define your reality: you have every right to be interested in you. But to believe complete strangers will share in your self-infatuation is a mistake. There needs to be more on the table than zany facial expressions.

Writers are encouraged to start blogs. It's how they connect with current (and in my case: potential) readers. Despite knowing this, for years I avoided blogging out of fear of seeming conceited. What did I have to offer beyond unsolicited pontifications? What would separate me from the the guy who films his crummy lip-synching because he's convinced he's cute/hilarious? The answer: not much.

I should have gotten over myself. 

Wanting to write fiction for a career is narcissistic. I can’t dance around it. I’m assuming what I like to do is not only worthy of other people’s time, but their money (time x 2?). I hate to come across as arrogant, but blog or no blog, I’m delusional if I believe my ego has no stake in this. 

So here it is: a self-promotional blog centered around my stories and thoughts.

And here's the lowdown: I'm horror-obsessed. I've been that way since I was four. I'm approximately a month away from self-publishing a horror novella. I don’t chase trends or write what I think will make it “big.”  I write for myself. I write what I want to read, and I hope that somewhere out there exists an audience with tastes similar to mine. As I begin my foray into the self-publishing world, I imagine this will resemble cooking a favorite meal for a potluck and watching to see if the contribution is well received. Although given the overcrowded market, I know I’ll need to occasionally point to where I set my dish on the table.