Over dinner, my friend Trish and I were dishing about Dooce’s divorce. (That’s not even really how that went; Trish had just asked me if I’d heard that the biggest blogger ever had gotten divorced. I hadn’t.)
In an insta-minute, I recalled that another big blogger had gotten divorced. Or permanently separated. Or something.
And then, of course, there was the gag-worthy “conscious uncoupling” of this dubious online presence.
Still at dinner with Trish, I turned to her and said, rather un-calmly, “DO ALL BLOGGERS GET DIVORCED?!”
And we discussed it and yes, of course that’s silly, and I didn’t get divorced because I BLOGGED, of all things. Jeez.
But this, I think is true: writers sometimes have trouble with relationships. And sometimes writing is an outlet for a troubled relationship. A kind of therapy for people going through something they can’t work out in other ways. So if it’s a chicken–>egg thing, the egg may very well be before the chicken. See?
In any case, I’m in a wonderful relationship now. I have loved writing since I was four and could wrap my hand around a pencil. Discovering a quick and easy way to self-publish was such a gift for me — thank you, Internet, Al Gore, Easter Bunny and baby Jesus — me, never having the patience for the Self Addressed Stamped Envelope and the waiting for replies to hopeful manuscripts.
Blogging works for me. Always has*. So yeah, I’m sure if you bumped into the ex somewhere and asked him if we divorced because I was a blogger, he’d give you a funny look. Tell him I said hi!
*Blogging since 2003. Writing online since the late 1990s. I’m old.