A Blog Experiment

A Blog Experiment | Lexie WinslowI have had an ambivalent attitude about this patch of internet real estate for a while now. It’s been sitting here, proverbially gathering dust, as the Most Recent Posts celebrate anniversaries…and I want that to change. But first, there are a few reasons why it got that way in the first place.

For one thing,  I blog for my job, and blogging still more in my free time is not my ideal concept of relaxation. I remember once hearing Boston Pops conductor Keith Lockhart answer the interview question, “What music are you listening to these days?” with a statement to the effect of, “Do you think Tiger Woods plays golf to unwind in his spare time?” Obviously there was some ego behind the remark, but I’ve always thought the sentiment rings true for anyone whose work could be considered a hobby by others.

For another thing, I recoil at the idea of sharing anything too personal here. I’m just too pragmatic to pour my heart (and personal details) out online for any Dateline predator to see. And the use of a blog as a true digital diary is too cringe-inducingly ‘90s to consider.

For a third thing, I kept dithering over which topics to write about. The internet is so full already! What is left to say?

For a final thing, I am practically maxed out on platforms as it is. When I comment on the marketing industry, technology, social media, or any other facet of my day job, I post on my digital marketing blog. When I want to participate in the writerly, readerly running dialogue online, I jump on Tumblr. Then there’s Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads clamoring for my attention, too. So, what’s left to go here, in this space designated for my personal blog?

It’s time to find out. I spend a major chunk of my working hours writing material for public consumption, but at the end of the day, none of it goes out into the world with my name on it. That is a complex, even strange arrangement (which I’m sure I’ll talk more about in the future), and for right now I’m mostly okay with it. It’s good work. But it is counterproductive for me to spend so much time writing in voices other than my own, and irresponsible of me to have so little material out there that actually belongs to me to be shared, distributed, and reused as I see fit.

Plus, I have become a huge fan of blogs. I started reading popular ones in the cultural and literary spheres about six years ago for work, and by now I’m completely hooked. In fact, I’ve got a carefully curated roster of over 300 blogs that I read on a rotating schedule. It’s almost, not quite, very nearly out of control. What I’ve learned from all of the blog consumption is that bloggers are great people, and blogging can open amazing doors. I really want to find my place in that world.

So, I’m going to go for it. For the next month I am going to blog every day. I’m going to write about the things that I probably think about the most in my spare time, like books, music, television, movies, and all of those other things that about 99% of internet users also seem to be opining on. I’m sure I won’t be able to resist sharing thoughts on writing, ghostwriting, and all of the weirdness of the publishing industry. There will be personal narratives, too, the creative writing format that raised me. And as I brainstorm post topic ideas, I’m surprised by how much I want to write about my celiac disease. The digital marketing consultant in me gripes at the curveball this will throw at my SEO, but I have some big opinions on the topic and for whatever reason people are eager for info on the condition right now.

And never fear, there will also be more than a few posts on the topics that bring most visitors to this site: Jane Austen and Jane Eyre.

I hope you like what I have in store! Thanks for reading.

Published by Lexie

I'm a reader, writer and Boston-area digital marketing consultant. On my site, you can find my short fiction, Jane Austen essays, travel photography and more. I'm a fan of novels, dresses, sitcoms, cats, indie bands on the verge of selling out, 19th Century England.

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