The idea of a writer starting his own blog seems like the most natural thing in the world. But to the dismay and repeated outcries of Brad (a.k.a "The" Brad, a.k.a "Kalimdor Wilson", a.k.a "Dave Smith Motors"), I have resisted the very idea of blogging for years now.
Part of my reason for this is that I am a fiction writer, and most blogs are arguably non-fiction. So branch out, you say... there must be something in the real world that you are passionate about, you say... Well, the fact is, I am a control freak. And fiction is a beautiful medium for a control freak. I make the rules. In fiction, stupid ideas (of which I have a surplus), are a benefit. They can be framed on a character, while reflecting brilliantly on the writer who framed them. It's fine with me if my characters have ridiculous opinions, or are morbidly wrong on issues. They can, and often should, make total fools of themselves. The question facing me now is, can I?
Am I comfortable enough to risk being absolutely wrong in public? As I mull over this question, one of my favorite writers, Soren Kierkegaard, keeps coming to my mind. He wrote in various persona's. Alter-egos, you could say. I imagine if I were to do anything non-fiction I would have to do something like that.
This is all a mater of comfort-zones. It is in fictionalization and outright LYING where my words really sparkle. Then again, I'm 31 years old. I finally have a grip on my fiction... maybe it's time to stretch my legs. Maybe it's time to wear a plain face somewhere.
Maybe.
The prospect still seems all too fucking boring. Who wants to read yet more self-conscious ramblings of yet another silly human in the thousand-full sea of blogg blogg blogg...
We'll see how it goes. Meanwhile, this post should keep Brad happy. For a few minutes anyway.
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