(i can’t get no) satisfaction

I am not a blogger. Not really. 

‘Cause I try and I try and I try.

I think that I started a blog as a way to pacify my need to write, a way to quit without quitting.

It’s not working.  I am not appeased.

Hey, hey, hey, that’s what I say. 

Truth be told, blogging is making me crazy(er).  Let me count the ways:

  • I am not a prolific writer, by any means (maybe I would be if I didn’t have a non-writing-but-too-demanding job and three small children — or at least that’s what I tell myself), and blogging only emphasizes that.  Aside from one week when I somehow managed to get two posts published, I have been posting only once a week.  Did you know that there are bloggers who post EVERY day?  And some that post MULTIPLE times in a SINGLE day?  (The caps are warranted, I think.) Clearly, I don’t have enough to say.
  • My day now involves checking my “stats.”  The only other time in my life when I refer to my own “stats” is in July when I calculate my students’ passing rate on the AP Lit Exam.  But now I refresh and refresh and refresh (though it’s really not refreshing).  And I check the “Reader” ( to see how many posts those multiple-posters have posted this hour) and the Freshly Pressed (and wonder why that blog was Freshly Pressed) . . . I could go on and on.  Let me.
  • My inner editor (who has always been a nit-picker) is quickly becoming a critic.  Really.  She’s forcing me to revise the sentences I construct in casual emails to friends.  Oh, and I just adore that QuickPress box: “Have you tried the quick post option?”  In my world, there is no such thing as a “quick post.”
  • I am suddenly reading things, all kinds of things, that I might not have read before.  Whether that’s good or bad is yet to be determined.  But when I read the posts that sort of resemble extended status updates, I have to wonder, who CARES what I have to say? Do I, even?
  • I am suddenly doing things I would never normally do, like take pictures of myself (ugh).   And that makes me feel so incredibly stupid that I grab my toddler to model with me (because he’s far more attractive than I am, anyway), which makes me feel only slightly less stupid.
  • And I wonder, am I pigeonholing myself?  (Can one, in fact, pigeonhole oneself?) If I write too many mommy posts, am I “mommy-blogger?”  If I write too many teacher posts, am I a “teacher-blogger?” Have I jumped the shark and pigeonholed myself as a “blogger?”
  • Oh, and then there are the things I really want to write about but I won’t because too many people who read this blog actually know me (Erin Lavelle, the person, not the Gravatar) and when I push that little blue “Publish” (ha!) button, I’m suddenly standing naked on stage in front of a bunch of people who will forever remember what I look like naked when I see them at the grocery store.  And all of my teeth have fallen out.  So I’m toothless and nude.  And everyone knows it.
  • Every event in my life has suddenly become a blog-worthy topic.  I’m going camping in September.  Oooooh, I could blog about it!  I really love to drink beer.  Oooooh, I could blog about it!  I’m awkward around my daughter’s classmates’ mothers.  Oooooh, I could blog about it!  (Okay, I might actually do that one.)

And then there’s Libby, who stares at me with those dark eyes and almost straight-across bangs.  She torments me.  She’s probably standing with her hands on her narrow hips, tapping her foot.  I annoy her the same way her mother does.  She hasn’t aged, from what I can tell.  But she’s growing tired of waiting. Because her story is there.  I know it; I made it.  But I haven’t written it.

Because I’ve been blogging.

In actuality, perhaps the blogosphere is a giant slushpile of submissions with no real rejection slips.  And I am just one of the unsolicited.

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8 thoughts on “(i can’t get no) satisfaction

  1. This should be Freshly Pressed. Totally. It’s true. Crappy and wonderful bloggers receive equal rights. Some people should step away from their keyboards (myself included).

  2. yes, to feeling awkward around other parents…why aren’t parent/child dates like post work gatherings…by that i mean alcohol enhanced and confidence infused (see what I did there?)
    categorizing bloggers is for lazy people who can’t accurate describe the content of the blog without defaulting to some umbrella term…if you are going to pigeon hole yourself then by all means make it a lavelle-blogger style…yours, unique, amazing 🙂

    • Ahhhh, I love you. Have I told you that lately? And, really. I’m so bad at this mom-of-an-almost-first-grader thing. I wasn’t even good at the mom-of-a-preschooler-or-kindergartener thing. I really should just stay away from the classroom (unless it’s my own, I suppose).

  3. Now that you’ve gotten here (from there) … what would it be like to publish a character study, anecdote, or short story full in each blog. Give Libby a platform. You’ve got the audience that loves your writing and eagerly looks for it every week. So…..

    • My goal is to keep up with the one-post-a-week pace (even though school starts on Monday). And perhaps have the novel finished by Christmas (ha!). But it would be fun to reveal some of Libby here.

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