I Ain’t Mad

I don’t even read Babble, so I’m not sure why every year I roll my eyes at their Top 100 Mom Blogs. I read probably half or more out of those 100 chosen and I am proud as hell of those who made it (more so the new people because there are some bloggers who, yes, they’re great BUT GIVE SOMEONE ELSE A SHOT OR MAKE A LIST OF 105, damn.) This is in no way anger, understand. I am not angry not to be on this list. I know to make the list one must be pretty damn great. Regularly great. I am occasionally great. I am not always great (and wait, no, let’s amend that. Some of the women on the list aren’t always great either. They can’t all be gems, y’all. But. They are serious about their writing/blogging/living and telling about it. I haven’t been. Not regularly.)

It makes me think about the whole blogging business. I never started this blog for my kids. Hell, half the shit I write my kids need to be adults to read it, so, no. I started this blog for me. I love to write. I am eventually going to find a full time job that pays me to write, to write about what I want to write about because I write well. I know plenty of bloggers who didn’t make the list who are fantastic writers and perhaps simply outside of what seems to be a big ole friendship of friends who are friends who have been friends for years and now will forevermore be, friends at Babble.

If nothing else, I am glad to have 40+ new blogs to read and give the gift of my commenting, commiserating, head nodding, yup that’s right, girl-ing.

I write for me (which is why I haven’t been writing as regularly as I should. The me in this relationship has been having a few dark days filled with woe is me, what’s it all for, where am I going, who am I, where am I. She is such a needy drama queen.) It’s why I couldn’t complete NaBloPoMo. I simply didn’t want to (couldn’t bring myself to?) write every day. I know that I should, though (and truth be told, I do write every day, just not always publishable stuff. Some stuff stays in my regular old handwritten on legal pads I stole from whatever law firm I worked for at the time.) I also try to be genuine in my writing, knowing that some reader, somewhere, is benefiting from something I’ve said or done or experienced or royally screwed up and decided to write about.

Now I’m struggling to find the purpose of this post. I think initially I was kind of angry like really, again, no recognition? Then I had to examine why I am seeking recognition from a site I don’t even read, why I feel slighted for not having my semi-regularly more oft than not non-greatness heralded for all the interwebs to know. Meh. It’s the life of the writer, I guess. We seek solitude but then want someone to recognize how well we write about our solitude. We create largely alone, then want everyone to yell about our creation. But no one knows about our mind’s greatness, our ability to make poop and vomit and marriage and life and threadbare verges of crazysound so damned poetic if we aren’t writing. I am looking at you, me.

And then I realized the purpose of this post. It’s for me, as is the majority of things I write (except that one about shitting on myself. That one was for you.) I need to recommit to the business of writing. I have to. I won’t ever find a writing job that I want, that I know wants and deserves my talent, my wit, ALL OF ME, unless I do. Besides, I apply for jobs and the first thing they ask is what have you written, where have you been published. And then I give a deadpan Spongebob-like uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh idunno.

This is me fixing that.

Like I told Mir on nearly every post she wrote this year, 2013 is going to make 2012 its bitch in so many worthwhile ways.

Edited a couple hours later to add: There will never be a way to accurately reflect all of the blogs (mom or otherwise). There will always be another blog that someone thinks is worthy. There are plenty I think are worthy for many lists; Babble’s is but one. I didn’t make the cut this year (was I really trying? No. Do I think I am in the right “circle” for this list? No. Doesn’t make the honor any less awesome for those who were chosen, though), but there are lots of lists created by lots of people who don’t know my level of awesome. For instance, I also don’t have a Man Booker Prize. For that, I’d need a novel, just as I’d need an updated and regularly great blog to be on Babble’s list. While I know 2013 is a year full of wonder for me (I have claimed it!), maybe the Babble list is still not going to happen. And you know what? That’s OK. I’m not writing to get on lists. I’m writing for me and my own sanity and happiness and eventually employment. I’m writing for those readers who laugh and nod with me, who shake their fists at the inanity of lists that can’t possibly know about all of us who are pretty damned great. And then it hit me: it’s their loss, y’all.

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  1. Oh friend, you don’t need a fancy schmanzy title for me to love your face. I love your writing and that’s what counts.
    You write quality pieces. There is a total difference in quality versus quantity. I’d rather read quality pieces right from the soul than a million no thought shit ones. Fact.
    You my dear, are lovely and keep writing for you on stolen notepads. With stolen pens from hotels of course xox

    • Thank you, Kim. I appreciate that. And yes, the pens are stolen too and say various things. Sure my husband may wonder if I’m really at work sometimes because WHY DO YOU HAVE 16 SHERATON PENS?

  2. I will never make it on to any of those lists either. I don’t strive to…just like I know you don’t. You write because you love stringing words together and making a connection through honesty, humor what have you. I write like I talk because that is who I am. I’m not a writer. I’m just a person that likes to share and meet and make friends.
    Keep doing what you’re doing! You’re on my favorite list in my computer on both Internet Explorer and Google Chrome…so there!

  3. Well, you deserve to be on esteem-able lists, that’s for sure. ;)

    I’ve always wondered how many people that make the Babble lists actually work for Babble…….

  4. Well you may not write posts all the time, but I can promise you if there was a top 100 commenters list YOU would be number 1. Sometimes (lots of the times) I look forward more to your comments on posts than I do the actual posts. And that? Is no lie.

  5. It’s like you and I were sitting in a bar, talking about this, because I feel the same way – about writing, recognition, Babble lists and whatnot. It’s not about lists for me, no (though I wouldn’t shake a fist at a Babble one), I guess it’s about, validation? I struggle to call myself a writer (though yes, that’s the title of my blog, partly because I’m trying to convince myself), so to have someone tell me objectively that I am, well, yay.

    You don’t have to worry about lists, you write for you and you write very well for you.

  6. You’re number one on my leg-humping list. I can make you a button. xoxo

  7. Some of the bloggers on that list are truly great. Some are not. It’s not about being great – it’s about being on the radar. The committee just pulls from people they know and the people they know… and of course a few A-listers that everyone knows.
    I’m not going to lie – when people started tweeting “Why isn’t MommyNAniBooboo on the list”, I felt a little rush of happiness. I write to be read, and it’s nice to know that people like what they read. But in the end it’s my words on the screen and the one or two souls that they really ring true for that mean the world to me.
    I’ve only been here a few times – but I love how you write, your words, and the pieces of your heart I read with it. You should know that.

    • I have to admit that is the absolute truth. Some are fantastic, others (to me) are meh. I’m glad anything I write touches someone so yes, I’m glad that the few you’ve read have meant something to you. It’s not a small thing, believe me.

  8. YOU are amazing.

    I know I’m just a little blogger (who doesn’t post often and is posting evenlessthannotoften these days as I work on a novel becauseiamafoolwithadream) but.

    I think you are amazing.

    And I don’t read any of those people on Babble (except Alexandra, Ann and Ilana from Mommy Shorts). Because the truth is, those other bloggers don’t need my words or care what I have to say.

    Not in a bad way. They’re just too big. Too busy. Too.

    So I read the words of the people who care if I do.
    (At least I think they care. They take the time to let me think they care.)

    I’m selective.
    And I choose you.

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