Rethinking It

re·think  (r-thngk)

To reconsider (something) or to involve oneself in reconsideration

I’ve been in a fog about Fork.

Some people are natural bloggers. They take off and never look back.

Some people, not me.

I’ve written daily for 4 1/2 months and I’ve learned quite a bit.

I’ve learned tons about Texas and the oil industry that I likely would never have learned if I hadn’t pressed myself to share something new each night.

I hear things and think about things because I’m writing that I might otherwise miss; in the same way that I see things when I have a camera in my hand that I might normally overlook or quickly forget.

I’m not a journal-er. I never have been and weeks of trying didn’t turn me into one.

I’m not Dave Barry (and anyway, he only had to be funny once a week).

I’ve learned that watching Site Stats is akin to weighing everyday, not an accurate gage of success and a bit of an emotional roller-coaster.

I have to remind myself that no one is paying me to write, so I should enjoy it.

I’ve developed friendships with other bloggers and with folks who read Fork. This has been the biggest and best surprise!

I spent time tonight reading about blogging. Most of the tips I read were written by people who blog for a living, but I found what I’ve been missing.

I read 18 Lessons I’ve Learned About Blogging by Darren Rowse. I only needed one to redirect my thinking:

Be Yourself

1. Transparency – readers are an insightful bunch and will quickly find you out if you’re not being genuine
2. Sustainability – it’s difficult to sustain writing in a voice and personality that is not your own. Be yourself and you’ll last a lot longer.
3. Consistency – regular readers of a blog overtime take on a sense of ownership of a blog. When you chop and change your writing to emulate and please others you’ll end up disillusioning the people who make your blog what it is (your readers). Be yourself and you’re more likely to be consistent (I’m not suggesting be monotonous – you can still be creative and surprising – just do it in your own style and you’ll be right).

Clearly, I would have benefited from reading these sooner. I’m just plain Texas-gate- guarding-quipped out. I’m still a gate guard, living in Texas and I’ll still write about both from time to time, but not every night.

Heidi has her hands full with Good Life. She’s been encouraging me to figure out what I want to do with Fork. I’ve avoided the transparency and sustainability criteria by mostly sharing facts and telling stories.

My favorite posts to write have been the 4 or 5 I’ve shown up for, including yesterday’s. They weren’t necessarily crowd pleasers. I have a very small but consistent readership of around 150 a day. Most never comment and that’s OK, but I would love to exchange ideas.

What is there for you to say if I stick to Halliburton trucks and my coffee pot sounding like Darth Vader? I’m hoping Fork will continue to be fun to read. For example, I think we’re having rabbit/squirrel/quail stew next week. If I can’t make that entertaining, the guys should quit cooking for me!  🙂 But there’s going to be more of me in the mix here at Fork: my thoughts and perspectives and questions. I hope there’ll be more of you, too.

I’ve spent a whole lot of time trying to guess who was readying and why. It’s still a mystery to me. But it’s time for me to reconsider and involve myself in the direction. I may lose some readers. They’ve already forewarned me.

I also won’t be writing every night any more. Most nights, just not every night. On the days you chose to read, I’m looking forward to listening and learning from you. To quote a fellow blogger who commented on a comment from yesterday: this may not float your boat (thanks Malinda). For those of you who stick around, I look forward to sharing adventures together.