Heart and Mind

We're Living in the Sixties

That is, if you're counting blog posts.

This entry you're reading is the sixtieth entry on the Heart and Mind blog, and I think it's time for a little reflection.

Last September—so we're talking less than a year ago—I started this blog while simultaneously lamenting that it was a bit of a jack-ass of an idea, being that life changes had left me with virtually no time to devote to it.

That statement was basicsally true back when I said it and it's basically true now. I'll tell you this much: if I had started this blog even just a few years ago, I probably would have had 300 posts already and they'd be even longer than the ones I write now. (The sent folder in my email box from that era would support my claims.)

But even with all this taken into account...wow. Sixty. That's cool! I've gone through stages where I posted a few blogs a week, and I've gone through stages where I did just one a month. But when I do the math, all I can think is, "Wow, it's added up quickly!" (I almost thought, "Wow, it's added up FAST," but I actually aspire to think gramatically correctly, too.)

I want to talk about this "sixty" number, because it represents precisely why blogging—despite the cyber geek quality—is an awesome tool for those of us who are writers, wanna-be writers, or just folks with something to say or a desire to express ourselves. (I'm definitely the latter, if nothing else.)

You see, talk is cheap and we all talk about stuff we'd like to do more of, creatively speaking. I know I do. I want to write moresongs than I do. I want to play more music than I do. I want to learn to draw. I want to fix up more of my house. I want to improve the craft that I do for a living by having bigger challenges. I want to do a lot stuff and always have. And, sure, I've done plenty of creative things in my life; but never enough to fully satisfy the sense of expression and creativity that we all have to some degree.

Well, writing stuff and expressing my "useless-but-no-more-useless-than-anyone-else's" thoughts through words is always one of those things that I used to talk about wanting to do more of. And yet, it's one of those things that we all seem to slack on. Hell, I know I'm not the only one. It seems like half the people I know talk about getting a book published someday and many of them have partially written books that never see the finish line. Damn, I've got several manuscripts myself that account for hundreds and hundreds of pages—and yet they never get finished, much less published.

Why? Maybe because it's too big of a task for a part-time creative outlet and other things—like life—get in the way.

When I pitched the idea of the Coffee Crew, I did so in part because it sounded like a lot of fun and an excuse to meet regularly and get some of our creative rocks off. And it was all that and truly a brilliant experience while it lasted. But I also started it up because I thought I needed to be inspired to get some more writing done. And it worked. I wrote a lot more stuff that year than I had in recent years (emails and stuff for internet groups excluded).

When the Coffee Crew fizzled out, I decided that maybe this blog thing could give me the push to actually keep up with periodically jotting down my thoughts. And it's worked so far.

Now, I don't want to insult published writers by suggesting that this is the "real deal." Of course, it's "any half-wit can do it" push-button publishing on the web and therefore, not award winning journalism or best-seller authoring. Hell, there are no qualification needed whatsoever and the number of things on the web written by people with no command of the English language whatsoever is the proof. But with 60 little essays under my blog-belt, I've also got to give credit where credit is due and admit that it is good for something and has merit. In short, it has got me motivated enough to find time—little by little—to not only write stuff, but to get it out there. It is a form of publishing, low-level as it is.

More to the point, if I wanted to turn around tomorrow and actually have something to show, I could self-publish (on real paper) what amounts to a book of random musings with 60 chapters. (And you know that with the length of some of these, it's not a stretch to suggest that they are "chapters.")

Sure, I'd have to go back and edit and proofread—two things that I don't do at all when I post (because if I made it that much like real writing, it would become like real work and I would definitely never be able to see anything through to completion). But that doesn't matter. What matters is that...Hey, in less than a year, I've turned out 60 Essays that are forever documented because I actually wrote the thoughts out instead of just letting them sit in my head.

It's cool, man. I encourage everyone to do it. And for my blogging friends who maybe haven't been as prolific as I've been fortunate enough to be, I still think it's great, because it's ultimately not about whether you've got 60 or 30 or 90 or 10. It's that you've got "X" amount more than you probably would have if you didn't have a blog.

It's been a good forum for my quirky musings. It hasn't really been a place where I've delved into personal memoir too much, which is my other area of interest when it comes to writing. However, I am starting a photo blog (and going through the same "when the heck am I gonna have time to do this?" questioning as I did when I started this) and that will, I assume, logically inspire more memoirs.

I can't believe I've made 60 posts. I can't believe I've had that much to say and that found time to say it. Here's to hoping I can be speaking of another 60 this time next year. We'll see...

And to those of you who come by to visit and give up portions of your precious lives to read my long-winded commentary: THANK YOU! The notion that someone might read this stuff is what keeps me motivated and makes me think, "Damn, there's a lot of dust piling up on the blog. I should really find some time to update it."

See you next time on Chapter 61.

posted by Steve @ 10:20 PM