Before returning to WordPress recently, I lived almost exclusively among the intrepid community of lifestreaming idiots at Tumblr. I use the word “idiot” in a friendly manner; we were all as bad as one another.
As tends to happen in a community where the minutiae is shared every daysometimes every hourlines get crossed, and boundaries get broken. Suddenly friends you have read for months vanish, only to re-appear some days later under a different alias, sharing exactly the information that got them in trouble before.
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 themeven in guarded tonesare 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 sometimes. The most interesting storiesthe ones about people (and lets face it, people are always the most interesting thing in any story)cannot be shared. 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 ?