anniversary

Papillon is a year old today. And this is my hundredth post, very satisfying to someone nerdy enough to like rounded numbers.

I began this blog with mixed feelings. It felt a bit like getting undressed and wandering outside. It also felt self-indulgent. I'd describe myself as selectively disclosing, but occasionally, after a during-the-night post, the next day I've deleted things, in the clearer light of morning feeling they were too personal to share. Sometimes I’ve started a post and scrapped it, realising no-one would want to read such drivel.



I’ve learned that each post takes longer than anticipated. Partly the writing, partly finding images I like and inserting them in the right order and playing around with spacing.

Sorting out spacing is tedious, and there’s probably an easier way to do it but I don’t know what that is. As I boasted at the time, I set up the blog with no help from my on tap IT department. I’m still proud of that. And surprised, as I display an ineptness verging on incomprehensible where machines are concerned. I’ve yet to work out what a widget is, and a ‘cookie’, if it hasn’t appeared from a biscuit tin. But apparently I can survive without understanding these things.



Along the way I’ve fiddled about with layout, colours in particular, types of font, information I want to share in my profile. Along the way I’ve learned that key words in a title are a good idea for stimulating interest in what I write. I think readers enjoy hearing about the human experience, perhaps about times past. I think they enjoy self-deprecation, which is just as well, as I seem incapable of writing about myself in any other way. The statistics were introduced last summer, and though I don’t fully understand why Google does them in such a way, I check them with an embarrassing eagerness.

I’ve learned that it doesn’t work thinking of topics/experiences to blog about. That’s too forced. It's the same with humour. If you try to say something funny, chances are it won’t work - although comedians seem to manage. For me, however, any humorous comments, any potential writing has to appear in my consciousness without my digging down for it. Once upon a time, someone accused me of seeing everything through a camera lens. That remains the case and now I think something similar is happening with writing. As soon as I find myself in a ‘situation’, the thought ‘I’ll blog about this,’ is never far away.
















I still wrestle with issues of self-indulgence and egotism when it comes to blogging. And I wonder if I’d have got round to setting up a blog if I hadn’t been on a creative writing course where we were exhorted to become more ‘visible’. I reckon I’ll always struggle with the need to self-promote.

According to a website, the life span of a butterfly ranges from about 4 days to 10 to 11 months. My little papillon has survived for a year and the mother in me releases a sigh.


Flutteringly yours

Jane