My friends Linda and Caryn have blogs. I don't know why I don't mention I have a blog when I'm talking to them. I suppose it's because when I actually take the time to write here I write about writing!
For some odd reason I don't think that my friends who are interested in sewing would be interested in my writer's angst. We share sewing and embellishment and even some crafts, but even writing 'light' novels is, in essence, opening a vein for me. Do I want the people I call my friends to know me that well? It's not that I don't have 'writing friends', it's more that I'm having a peas-and-mashed-potatoes moment; I'm not sure if I want people from one part of my life to interact with personality traits and thought processes that I've pigeonholed for another part of my life.
On the other hand, my friend Linda is a retired English teacher. Hm. Well, isn't that all kinds of revealing that I don't want an English teacher reading my writing? Am I having writing self-esteem issues, or do I have a fear of grammar failure? It can be hard to be e-mail friends with an English teacher if only because there's always the lurking suspicion that your friend is reading your e-mails and highlighting them in red! I'm fairly sure that she isn't, but it's still a niggling worry in the back of my mind. I confess, I have verb-tense insecurities.
I suppose the reason I keep my blog to myself is mostly that this group of women already know so much about who I am and are so much a part of my life. It can be hard to let go of your grasp on your life and allow even your closest friends to see every corner of the dark recesses of your mind. The closer a friend is the harder it seems to reveal the parts of yourself that they don't already know about, even if that part might seem trivial, something you'd readily admit a different set of more distant friends to 'see'.
Hm. Someday I'll probably let them see my blog. Not today, anyway.
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