Friday, May 1, 2015

Channeling Erma

It has been some time now since I posted my last blog. All nine of you regular readers might be wondering, “What the heck?” Well, the heck of it is that I have not been feeling very bloggy lately. Bogged down, more like, and maybe even occasionally bloated, but that’s another blog for another day. (That's the derivative of blog isn’t it? Bog + bloat = blog? No?). If you think there can’t be much pressure in being a humor writer, you’d be wrong! Being funny isn’t as easy as it looks!

And truth be told, lately I have been questioning, existentially speaking, if trying to be a humor writer really does qualify as my life’s calling. I'm not sure how much more funny I have in me.

I look back at the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop of 2012, which is when I began blogging, and it all seemed so possible. Highly successful guest speakers told us about their 20,000 readers, about advertisers trolling the webisphere and becoming enraptured over their witticisms, about publishers begging them to write books and magazine editors making deals for monthly columns. I was starry-eyed enough to think I could be the blog-world equivalent of a diner waitress discovered for a starring role in Hollywood.

You can imagine humor writers in spasms of ecstasy attending a workshop here in Dayton. This is, after all, Erma Bombeck’s hometown. This is where she composed her ground breaking newspaper columns and books  – in an average suburban home where she, the housewife with three kids, wrote with enormous mirth about the absurdity of it all; motherhood, the suburbs, being a wife. On my way to pick up the dog at day care today, I drove past Cushwa Street in Centerville where she lived. Her house was recently designated by the National Register of Historic Places. It has a little plaque. Pretty interesting honor when you think about it. A simple, undistinguished little rancher where an American icon helped an entire generation feel vindicated for being misunderstood moms. Remarkable.

By the last day of the 2012 EB writer's workshop, my self esteem had taken about as much of a beating that it could  take. When a young thing sitting next to me in one session testified to the crowd that by the 2014 gathering she would have 20,000 blog subscribers and a book deal, I took my opportunity to inject some reality.

“I have nine readers,” I began, “And honestly, all this hype about marketing ourselves and getting advertisers just sounds so calculating. I’m really happy if I hear from one person who says, ‘Me, too! What you wrote happens in my life, too! Thanks for writing that!’ And, people, isn’t THAT why we write?” I got applause.

So, here it is, 2105, and my readership has not changed. And I thank you all for your loyalty and support. Sure, I’d be thrilled to grow my numbers to the thousands, but can you imagine the pressure? Who can be funny every day? O.K., Erma and all the bloggers who have 20,000 readers. But really, who else? No, I’m delighted with my nine readers who enjoy my blog. To me, it’s all about putting it out there and if it resonates for my friends, I’m thrilled. One day I might quit, but for now, I’m here for all nine of you!

I've given up on the historic register designation.

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