This is no way to get a book deal…
I appear to be writing in invisible ink.
I cannot find the quote from Virginia Woolf that I wanted to share so I offer this one instead:
“There’s no doubt in my mind that I have found out to begin (at 40) to say something in my own voice….” (July 26, 1922)
I answered a survey for The Rumpus today, and in the “Other comments?” box I told them—by which I mean mostly Stephen Elliott—that somehow getting his Rumpus e-mails, which seem extremely stream of consciousness, had become a type of permission for me to just write what I write however I write it. I don’t think I really mean that about the poetry. With poetry I can’t seem to write any other way than how I write; even if my style varies from poem to poem, I feel that the voice is fairly consistent.
But I have been struggling with my voice for blogging. When I started this blog in late 2010, it was called The Home Beete, and I tried my best to make it a place where I talked about home design. I also started The Christian Beete for addressing faith issues. (That only lasted a couple of posts; I chickened out after I almost lost a friend over a post about a certain unpopular—at least in contemporary times—teaching from the Bible.) The Home Beete sputtered along, but often I just didn’t have the time or energy to do the Internet sleuthing it required, and it always seemed like what I wanted to write about was off-topic.
So far in this iteration of the blog I’ve covered the Bible, literature, home design, and the pros of early middle age. I’ve given up trying to fit things into categories, and I just write about whatever’s on my mind. (Or I put up a quote or a photograph if I can’t quite pin down what’s on my mind on a given day.) And I’m as surprised as anyone if at the end of a given post, I find out I’ve had an epiphany, or landed on a point of encouragement or life lesson. I suppose it’s a little like going to a good therapy session where you allow yourself the freedom to just talk about anything, to simply follow whatever twists and turns the conversation takes, to not worry so much about the destination. That is, I think, how you find out where the really good stuff is hidden. That’s where you stumble across the answer that’s been waiting for you all this time.
I’d like to think that’s something that readers will appreciate about this blog—that you’ll never quite know what you’ll find when you get here. At the very least, that’s what I’m loving so far about writing it.