I am Kim Triedman, and I am a blogging virgin.
You’ll have to bear with me. I’m inclined to take this a little slow at first. Put on a little Al Green maybe, even a glass of wine to calm the nerves. The year is young. We’re just on the right side of winter. There’s plenty of time yet to get down to the nitty gritty…
The fact is, this is not what I’m supposed to be doing. This is not who I am. I am a writer, and like many of you out there, I could argue that my passions are being subverted. Certainly I am submitting to peer pressure of the highest order, putting the right side of my brain on sabbatical to humor the left. Compromising myself for the sake of the almighty…….book? It doesn’t take much squinting to see myself lemming-like: joining the ever-ballooning ranks of the newly-published, spinning blog entries like so much cotton candy, filling my head with that quick, nasty sugar-high of immediate gratification.
Now here’s the place where I could blame my publicist. (And maybe I will…just for a minute…I mean, Twitter?? Platform?? Reaching out to my audience??) But truth be told, this is not where I want to go with this. My publicist, Sharon Bially, is nothing but smart and savvy, and I am nothing but glad to have her save me from most of what she spends her days doing exceptionally well on my behalf. I appreciate the learning curve I’m not having to scale on my own by virtue of her instincts and know-how. And in some dark place I have to admit that I signed onto this unholy task when I wrote that first word I wanted someone someday to read. When I conjured up a whole world from one childhood summer. When the first page of my novel insisted itself onto the page. When a poem fell like a perfect plum into my lap. If you’re a writer, you can fill in your own blanks – that moment when you realize that you’re throwing your voice out there into the world…in search of someone to hear it.
So no, I’m going to stop complaining about the fact that I have no time to sit on my front stoop and hear my voices anymore (that sounds more alarming than it is!). And I’m going to stop ranting about facebook and twitter and visibility and reach and target audience and just being that person I don’t want to be. I’m going to try and be gracious now and appreciate the blessing of my forthcoming books.
I’m going to do up my hair and gloss my lips and break out the hooker heels.
I’m going to write a blog.