D'vorahDavida
Yetzirah

Now that I have my degree, I have a few words to say about bloggers, blogging, and ancient Egyptian history, not necessarily in that order.

In my travels into the Blogosphere as it is affectionately called, I have run across plenty of (diaries, journals, weblogs) use your favored term, that are boring and filled with vapid, unimaginative self-absorption. But thankfully, there are plenty more, that have surprised me with their depth and/or humor.

I have encountered an astonishing number of really fine writers on the internet. Hilariously funny writers and profound writers. Regurgitators and original thinkers. Pot shot takers and rapier wits. Pompous know-it-alls and humble philosophers. They are all represented.

There seems to be no lack of people ready and willing to see the absurd in modern life in general and in their own silliness in particular. The relative anonymity of blogging makes for some wonderfully candid writing.

Many of these bloggers write more entertaining material than anything you might find in print. But here comes the conflicted part of my story. (You thought you were going to be spared this time didn’t you?) Well brace yourselves, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Why do people write? I mean just think, even way back in the mists of antiquity, Pharaohs had workers chisel out tall tales in stone so somebody would read it years hence, and read we did, big eyed guys wearing makeup, posing in skirts and all. We are gah gah for the stuff still. I see it on the Discovery Channel all the time.

Later on, people paid other people with better handwriting than themselves to write down their words on paper and roll it up so they could pass it around for people to read years hence, and read we did. Until someone decided to cut the sheets of paper and bind them into a book, (A brilliant idea that remains with us to this day) so that people could read it years hence.

Then came the printing press and things got a lot easier and faster, but as you know, there was always that element of exchange of money for recording your words for others to (you hoped) read years hence.

Publishing eventually became BIG business, and we had to go through the system of pitching our work to editors and get the approval of the people with the specialized equipment in order to get our work into print so a lot of people could read it. But this business became so bloated and self important and driven by profit, that even though the number of people actually writing expanded, only a trickle of what was written became available to the general public. While I know the publishers can’t print stuff for free, it has become a nightmare for even a very fine writer to get into print these days.

No matter how good you are, if you can’t talk someone into printing what you have written, you are not considered a writer. At best you are thought to have a nice little hobby. And people pat you on the head and send you and your ink stained fingers back to the attic. It’s as if the publishers somehow had a corner on the market of being the only ones qualified to hand out the coveted title of “Writer”.

This has always annoyed the dickens out of me, because I have known that I was a writer for a very long time. Though I have only had the courage to say it out loud these past few years after writing in my own blog day in and day out.

Now here I must say, that my Luddite self reveres the lovely ink on paper way of communication. And I would be a black liar if I did not admit that someday I want my words to be printed on creamy paper, bound up in leather, and schlepped around the world to be read by thousands. There will always be something about a book that is epitome of perfection. But until that day comes . . .

Enter stage right, The Internet.

It took us a while . . .( a certain number of hours of Tetris had to be played on computers until the paradigm shift occurred), but once blogging took hold, everything has changed.

What has happened of course is we have completely bypassed the publishing cartel and put our work “out there” free of charge. Well to be fair, most of us do pay the gate fees of internet access, but this does not stop anyone with access to a library from blogging and reading blogs free of charge.

So now, I am reading, on a daily basis, the work of writers as good as, or better than Erma Bombeck or Garrison Keillor. (Two of my heroes by the way). It’s true that we aren’t getting paid for our writing. And sometimes that sticks in your craw a bit. But on the other hand, we don’t have to contend with editors or profiteers or the politically correct police, or deadlines (unless self-imposed) or contracts that in the fine print say that you have to buy back any unsold copies of your book at such and such a price.

Now while I would not mind making a living by writing, I have become aware that the exchange of money does not a Writer make. The recording of words that others read and laugh at or learn from or ruminate on, does. And there is something extremely powerful about words that are shared freely. There is a purity about it that refreshes my “over pitched to” consumer’s psyche. I just hope that blogging continues to be a free enterprise and that the public discourse thrives. Where everyone has a place at the table and where your words can speak for themselves, without hindrance of middle men or gatekeepers.

It’s true, that in the blogging world we will have to wade through the mountains of what is written to find the good bits. But at least we get to choose who we think is worthy to be read. And that is a very good thing indeed.

Power to the People!