Wednesday, 1 September 2010

Getting over a blogging breakdown

Dear Blog, 

I'm sorry I've been away; it's not that I don't care, it's just that I have had very little to say for myself and you, Blog, are partly to blame for that.
You see, when I first hooked up with you and gave you your name, I also saddled you with a mission statement - the rather ponderous
Thoughts on changing times for journalism and newspapers that still sits just beneath your title today (although that may change soon). And lately I haven't had many thoughts about journalism or newspapers, at least not any that would stand sharing.

Because recently, Blog, I have found it increasingly hard to negotiate the choppy waters of 'changing times'; I have, if you like, lost my compass. I have striven to be optimistic about newspapers and the future but sometimes the words rang very hollow indeed.

Like, I'm interested in data journalism, visualisations and applications but I don't think it's the sole rock on which a business should be founded. I'm interested in apps but I think probably mobile web is just as important if less headline-grabbing, I'm interested in story-telling yet I'm bored of big reads - but if you hit me with nothing but headlines and push Slow Journalism off the page, I feel superficial and guilty that I don't care enough to read 3,000 words of deathless prose.

So I'm afraid I've been ignoring you, Blog, but if it makes you feel better, you aren't the only one. I deserted my other online playgrounds too - even the BFF ones like Twitter, and Google Reader, and Delicious. Not only did I have nothing to say, I didn't want to hear anything interesting from anyone else either. Because it might not make a difference to how I felt, and that would mean that the estrangement was probably going to become permanent. 

What changed things was, randomly, a delayed hair appointment. I was stuck in a coffee shop with wifi, waiting for the clock hands to move, when I logged onto Twitter and instead of my recent lurking, I gatecrashed a conversation between Nigel Barlow, Jo Wadsworth and Andy Dickinson. The subject interested me, and within a few tweets the conversation had grown to include thoughts from Glyn Mottishead, Sue Llewellyn, Sam Shepherd and Mary Hamilton

It grew into a really interesting debate - the type of thing you'd like to move into the real world and accompany with some ale - and it reminded me how valuable my online networks people and conversations are to me. It reminded me, Blog, that I started you so I could have conversations with myself and others about journo stuff I was trying out, and thoughts or half-baked ideas I'd had; I realised that going dark was just another way of sulking because the Utopia I had in mind when I started blogging in 2008 hadn't panned out. 


The Panning Out is still going on, and it's going to continue for a long time - in fact, it's never going to stop. It will just move on to the next thing, and the changes will keep happening. The trick is not to start longing for and end to change, I guess, because newspapers and journalism stopped changing for a long time and that is, in part, what's led to the current crisis. 


Anyway, Blog, that's all I wanted to say. I'm sorry I stopped talking to you, and I hope we can move on from our brief falling out. If it makes you feel better, I had a catch up with my mate Neil MacDonald earlier and he revealed, unprompted, that he'd had a blogging crisis and had ground to a halt. I see he's over it now though. I'm not quite, but I think I'm getting there. 


Love always, 
Alison



Enhanced by Zemanta
Post a Comment