We could all be writers. You don't need to admire great literature or high art. You don't need to be a beatknick. You don't have to write the tale of the White Whale. You can just muse about any fanciful idea that pops into your head and post it for the world to see.
Some writers must be rolling in their graves because some hadn't received recognition for their work until long after they died. Blogging, though, is instantaneous. Anyone can log on, become a reader. Everyone's an author. The world's story is just waiting to be written.
Most writers I admire didn't crave fame, fortune, but identity. They yearned to express themselves through the median of writing, and usually to ease the pain, burden, and obscruity of their existence. I'm thinking Emily Dickinson, Virginia Woolf, Allen Ginsberg.
Maybe that's what this blog is for. I want to create it to sort out my identity, making observations along the way. I'll be using this blog for personal reflection, communication, and contemplation which will involve areas including: professional growth, music, art, and movies, family, friends, popular culture, and news, focusing of course on the written word and how it affects the culture of everyday.
(At first, I was going to use this as a blog to chart only my professioal aspirations, but I feel like that subject is too narrow.)
So, here goes nothing. Comment if you'd like. Suggestions, comments, and concerns will be gratefully considered.