I just got all caught up on HBOâ€™s Newsroom. Mind. Blown. Love that show â€“ passion, power and general awesomeness. You see, 20 years ago I saw the movie Broadcast News and decided that would one day be me. I was going to tell stories.
As the media landscape changes at breakneck speed, Iâ€™ve seen op eds decrying the death of news and broadcast media. Steve Tobak of CBS recently tackled the question â€œIs â€˜Do What You Loveâ€™ Good Career Advice?â€
Now, I donâ€™t claim to be an expert (I only have two degrees in communication studies), but isnâ€™t that what we bloggers do? Storytelling. Granted, this blog isnâ€™t what I do for a living, but the concept sure is close.
There have been a few claims that personal blogging is dead. Well â€“ spoiler alert â€“ Iâ€™m not dead. And neither are any of the other bloggers who packed the seminars at BlogHer 12 a week ago.
My favorite comment was an offhand quip mocking societyâ€™s fear and panic over every new development. Imagine people 10 years after the advent of the printing press, people wandering around saying, â€œThe pencil is doomed!â€
Tricia trivia: I still use an organizer with pulped paper. With a pencil.
Books arenâ€™t dead. Twitter hasnâ€™t killed blogs. Social media is still a fledgling community â€“ we are communicating. That evolves. No matter the technique.
However, a good point was raised about the divisions and camps rising up over monetization, which brings the career perspective into play. However, I donâ€™t believe blogging is a money/no money proposition. No blog is better than another simply because a writer derives income or has sponsors.
@Faiqa shared a great metaphor at the conference. There are people who run every day. They may even be great at it. But they arenâ€™t thinking, â€œI should be in the Olympics!â€
Comments can be blogger currency. But can also be a portfolio for people to see your work before hiring you. You may merely be looking to connect and interact, or you may be trying to make a living from your platform.
This blog began as an accident. Well kind of. It still comes as somewhat of a shock to find that people are reading my words. People I donâ€™t know! (<Hint> Comments are blogger crack. </Hint>)
And by that same token, sick babies arenâ€™t very marketable while thereâ€™s a distinct possibility that parenting humor is. (Although I will be doing my damndest to market a sick baby book â€“ including the humor of the tiny-people parenting situation. Just saying.) Well hell, now Iâ€™m feeling pressure to be funny.
Sometimes itâ€™s easier to write words than speak them. Therapeutic in a sense. Walking that fine line between an open forum to find my community and a publicly posted diary. Itâ€™s validating that weâ€™re not alone.
â€œIf you lose yourself, blogging can provide a map for your way back.â€ â€“ BlogHer â€™12.
At some point, my story may end. As my boys grow up, this blog has grown up alongside them. What began as a chronicle of prematurity has become simply the story of life. Celebrating each tiny breath that leads to hijinks and hilarity.
â€œThe truth about stories is thatâ€™s all we are.â€ â€“ BlogHer â€˜12
The analytics measured on my blog do not define me as a writer. (Donâ€™t tell Google.) Whether it is 1, 1,000 or 1 million reading my words, I have a voice.
When this journey started, I was only one. Looking for similar stories. Looking for my community â€“ that site for the sorority of prematurity I had no interest in pledging. Sharing stories makes me feel real. And yes, Iâ€™m well aware that no matter what opinion I have, someone will dislike me for it.
My blog. My opinions.
Society evolved from oral traditions. Stories are history. So we communicate to the future. For those of you reading my words now, know that your stories matter. Whether to 1, 1,000 or 1 million.
I guess I did take something from those conference seminars after all. Who knew.