Who Am I Writing For?

Last nigh,t I didn't have an urge to hide my blog (make it private). But I did have a strong urge to quick writing.

The main reason is hardly anyone is reading. My stats have gone way down in the last few years.  I'm not taking it too personally. I can see from other blogs that there seems to be a reduction in blog reading in general. I think people are now more interested in things like Snapchat, Instagram, vlogs, etc.  

Still. I don't like the feeling that I'm writing for close to nobody.  It's like talking to a brick wall. I actually maybe feel a bit crazy doing it. Yeah. That pretty much describes it. You know...I feel less crazy talking to my cat than I do blogging.  Like my cat can't understand what I'm saying, but at least she's hearing me.

But here I am with another post.

There's a part of me that wants to keep writing, and so I have to somehow reconcile this with the fact that there are very few people interested in what I'm writing.

I often cheer myself up by the idea that my future self will read these posts. She'll be interested. But if that's the main audience I'm aiming for, the private blog seems to make more sense.

I do have another audience in mind, though. Maybe my future relatives will be interested.  I don't think all or many of them will care. Out of the six grandchildren in our little family unit, only ONE child is a bookworm. At least so far.  Maybe the others will gain more love for reading as they get older.  But even then I think there's a slim chance that any of the kids would be interested in what their nutty aunt (or mom) wrote.  Note: I'm talking about the kids when they're NOT kids anymore. I don't think I'd want my ten-year-old old nephew reading my blog.  

Though I'm doubting there's much of a chance that I'll gain a reader from the six in our family unit, there are others out there. I have young second/third cousins who might one day be interested. There are grandchildren, great-nieces, great-nephews, in-law relatives, etc.  Out of all the future relatives that have a connection to me, will any of them love reading and will any of them have an interest and passion for family history?  

Then there's a question of whether my blog will still be around. It could be hacked and turned into an illegal shoe store. The Internet might be gone. Or the Internet might be there, but the erasure of net-neutrality might make it non-accessible.    

I was going to conclude with some bullshit about how I like the idea of future kin reading my words, but that makes me feel so egotistical, and THAT makes me feel kind of pathetic and depressed.  

There. Maybe that will be another excuse to keep writing. What if I have a future relative that is feeling pathetic and depressed?  She/he can read my blog and feel less alone. OR...I might lead the poor soul to believe they've inherited some kind of mental disorder.  

I just cheered myself up a tiny bit.

Maybe I don't need to rely on future kin.

What about general future people?

What if blogs have become less popular at this point in time but in thirty or so years, people use them to learn about life in the beginning of the 21st century?  Maybe as there's nostalgia for the 1980's lately, there will one day be nostalgia for the 2000's and 2010's. Maybe the neglected blogs of today will be obsessively treasured.

Yeah. I have to admit it. Sometimes I have Van Gogh type fantasies.  Not the ear part.  But I imagine my writings becoming famous after I'm dead.  I go back and forth from wanting something like that to wanting to fade completely into oblivion.  Maybe I'd like to be greatly remembered for a period of time and THEN forgotten completely.  If I was a genuine stable genius, my wishes would probably be more sensical and rational. But I'm miles away from being a genius, and I'm a few inches away from being stable.  Fortunately, I don't have a gun or nuclear button...or telekinetic powers.    





How would our world change if we knew for sure there was life after death, and it was easy for our dearly-departed to talk to us via the Internet?   

The Dead are Online, a novel by Dina Roberts