Words Never Written

For some time I have been promising a far flung friend that I will re-imagine her blog - make it pretty, shiny, professional, approachable, fun, and welcoming. It would be an opportunity to showcase my work to a far wider audience (my standard of writing pales in comparison with hers), and perhaps pick up a little work along the way. With potential design work in mind, I set off across the internet this evening to take a look at some of the more famous “A-List” bloggers; first stop, Petite Anglaise. For those who do not know, Petite Anglaise is the name of the blog written by Catherine Sanderson, and the cause of perhaps the second high profile firing for somebody writing about their life (the first being Heather Armstrong - she of Dooce fame). I would have looked at Petite Anglaise if the site was still there. At this point I’m not sure if something technical and clever is broken, or the plug has been pulled. After a little searching, I came up with a Blogspot blog too - and began reading. Of course I got sucked in, and before I knew it, half an hour had passed. Reading Catherine’s account of losing her job again brought into focus the numerous subjects I don’t write about any more. You may have noticed that I never mention what I’m working on, any conversations that took place during the day, who the client of a contract might be, or who I’m working with.In terms of family, I only ever mention my other half, our children, and perhaps our parents. I never describe anybody outside of my immediate family any more, and I never touch on any of the wider circle at all. Of course the same people who would be incensed if I wrote about them - even in guarded tones - are the ones who enjoy reading newspapers, magazines, and watching the news. As long as they are not the subject, they’re perfectly happy. Reading this (which they no doubt will), they’ll naturally be conceited enough to presume I’m pointing the finger directly at them, even though nobody is mentioned. Writing a blog within these confines feels like walking on eggshells. The most interesting stories - the ones about people (and lets face it, people are always the most interesting thing in any story) - cannot be shared. It’s a shame - I cannot write about the most interesting, thought provoking, or entertaining things that happen to me because somebody or other will use it either against me, or against my family. I wonder how journalists handle it? When passing judgement on the actions of others, how do they reconcile the problems they might cause? How do they cope with the ill feeling and the resentment? Perhaps the secret to writing about subjects that more might read is to care a little less about the consequences of doing so ?