The new issue of The American Conservative arrived last month, via computer subscription. One of the feature articles is by former blogger Diana Moon, who writes from the perspective of a member of one might call “BA”: Blogger’s Anonymous.
She’s a self-described blogging addict, who has put away her keyboard and now rages against blogging like former smokers rage against cigarettes. It’s actually a pretty good piece, but in the middle, she launches into the old (I’ve been hearing it for over six months now, so it’s old by cyber standards) critique of blogging: It does “not encourage thought.” It’s not “real writing,” because real writing is “painstaking and demanding.”
And, of course, she’s partially correct. I’ve said as much, referring to blogging as “electronic graffiti.”
Yet the sophomoric question tugs at me: So what?
Ms. Moon is a writer. She writes well, but I’m curious: What does she write?
Is she writing the great American novel or the next great book of Western civilization? Good for her. Good luck getting it published.
Or maybe she’s writing articles for various magazines, hoping the editors like her stuff, gearing her material to the editors’ whims.
Or maybe she’s sitting in her apartment and, Ruskin-like, cranking out diary entries.
Those are the traditional three outlets for writers: books, magazines, private journals. Yet the first two often aren’t outlets, since the editors guard the gates assiduously. And the last one isn’t an outlet at all: it’s just you and the page.
And that’s where I think the jeremiads against blogging fall short. Blogging is merely another type of publishing. Instead of the three traditional outlets, people can now self-publish.
I don’t see the problem.
Moon’s jeremiad against blogging is like accusing mushrooming of not being a true sport. Sane people aren’t claiming it is. It might have sporting-like qualities if you’re in competition, but mushroomers aren’t usually doing it for the competition or exercise.
Likewise, blogging is not true literature, if “literature” means writing that both (1) shows excellent form, and (2) deals with permanent interests. Some blogs deal with the permanent things, but almost all blogs fall short of the first prong. I’ve elsewhere referred to blogging as “first-draft writing,” and if a person isn’t editing and polishing, he’s not producing in excellent form.
I don’t think bloggers believe they’re producing literature, but they are writing. Any organized use of lettered symbols that conveys meaning is writing. It might not be “high” writing (i.e., literature), but it is writing. To claim otherwise is mere snobbishness.
The only question worth asking is, “Why is the blogger blogging?” But that’s a question that every person — and every writer — should ask himself every moment of the day about every activity and every type of writing: “Why am I doing X?”
Blogging might be an art form, or it might be more like a sport, a harmless activity that imparts fleeting enjoyment in this fairway of tears. It might be something else entirely. In my opinion, most blogging is a low form of writing: working with the printed word, but not agonizing over it, situated somewhere between graffiti and a newspaper op-ed.
But does it really matter? The ultimate questions are: Am I doing this for a good reason? Am I giving enjoyment to others or somehow improving their day? Am I becoming more virtuous? Where does this fit into my life as God’s child?
If it’s harming others, you shouldn’t do it. If it’s hindering your efforts at virtue, then you shouldn’t do it or you should change your way of doing it. And to the extent that blogging is creating an ocean of vain individuals who think their every thought is pure gold, blogging is damnable.
But the mere fact that it’s not literature? That’s not an indictment at all.
© Copyright 2006 Catholic Exchange
Eric Scheske is an attorney, the Editor of The Daily Eudemon, a Contributing Editor of Godspy, and the former editor of Gilbert Magazine.
