A friend emailed asking me if I was the Bobbi Fisher he came across while searching the internet for reviews on a book about Georgio Vasari. I responded that it was probably from my blog (only to find out that he had read something I had put on Goodreads). “I didn’t know you wrote a blog,” he wrote back.
I’ve always been aware that people discover my blog through random google searches, but I’ve never seriously considered who is actually reading what I write. Strange as it may seem, I post, release it to the universe, and immediately forget about those on the receiving end.
I’m not trying to develop a large audience, or really any audience at all. I’m not trying to make money or offer any service that might have a monetary attachment to it. I don’t advertise, and for the past five years I haven’t told anyone about the blog. So, when I ask myself why I keep blogging, no practical or even sensible answer comes up.
Although my posts have slacked off, I don’t want to stop, and recently I’ve pondered a shift in purpose—no, not a shift, but an add on. No longer do I go to the cottage by the sea, but I still long for the silence, solitude, and simplicity that I found there, and which I am now finding at home. The add on might be about finding a monastic life right here in this house.
I’ve always been aware that people discover my blog through random google searches, but I’ve never seriously considered who is actually reading what I write. Strange as it may seem, I post, release it to the universe, and immediately forget about those on the receiving end.
I’m not trying to develop a large audience, or really any audience at all. I’m not trying to make money or offer any service that might have a monetary attachment to it. I don’t advertise, and for the past five years I haven’t told anyone about the blog. So, when I ask myself why I keep blogging, no practical or even sensible answer comes up.
Although my posts have slacked off, I don’t want to stop, and recently I’ve pondered a shift in purpose—no, not a shift, but an add on. No longer do I go to the cottage by the sea, but I still long for the silence, solitude, and simplicity that I found there, and which I am now finding at home. The add on might be about finding a monastic life right here in this house.