Blogging: Inspiration or Perspiration?

And yet another week has passed without me posting a blog.  I have plenty of ideas.  I have dozens of abandoned drafts.  And yet, nothing--bribery, guilt, inspiration or sheer will--seems to propel me toward a finished post.

I tried writing for an hour a day.  That lasted about three days.  Then I compromised with half an hour a day, which lasted, well, less than the allotted half hour.  Too tired, too busy, too uninspired, too frazzled, too much "real" work for clients, too whatever--name your excuse, and I've used it.

My real problem--because let's face it, if I have time to stalk high school boyfriends on Facebook or tweet about cheese dip for an hour every day, I have time to blog--is inspiration.  Maybe it's my free spirited nature, maybe it's my own crazy brand of perfectionism, but I have to feel "inspired" to write.  I have to be "in the moment."  If I start a blog one day, it just doesn't "sing" to me two days later.  Which of course, leads to a string of unfinished drafts and even more pressure, frustration and self-doubt.

How do I break the cycle?  How do I write when I don't "feel" like?  Does writing ever become less of a chore?  Is it always a battle of spirit and will?

Help a girl out.

All the World's a Stage

Admit it.  You've read Crush It in the past few months (guilty as charged).  And if you're in Atlanta, you've probably heard Hollis Gillespie speak, or maybe even attended one of her blog writing workshops or webinars (and don't get me wrong--I ADORE Hollis.  She's an amazing storyteller).  Lately, though, it seems like everyone has jumped on the blog bandwagon.  And not for the reasons those of us who jumped on it a few years ago did--to express ourselves, to share our lives and commentary with friends and family, to practice the art of writing.  No, these newcomers seem primarily motivated by the almighty dollar.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.  When I originally started this blog (my fifth in about as many years), it was anonymous.  I thought it would be a place for me to vent about work and the unglamorous side of public relations.  And sometimes, it still is.  But I also write about running and food and body image and business growing pains.  If this increases my visibility or adds some credibility to my business, all the better.  But it's not my primary goal.  Hence, why this account is separate from my company's web site (which, like this blog, also needs a makeover)!

I write primarily because I love it.  Because I'm a girl who loves words, who needs a space to ponder and explore and dream.  It's not strictly business, because that's not who I am.  And because, quite frankly, there are dozens of people out there who do that and do it better than I ever could.

Which brings me back to the blog bandwagon.  I have nothing against blogging for self-expression.  I think we all could use a bit more creativity and whimsy in our lives.  And if you're blogging to grow your business, and doing the right things--adding to the discussion, fostering conversation, creating community--good for you.

But if you're doing it because you think it will make you a millionaire or land you a book deal--your time may be best spent elsewhere.

Martha, Martha, Martha

When I left you, dear readers, I was wandering around Manhattan with a buttonless coat, a half-torn contact in my eye, a blister and a dying cell phone.

But enough about my drama--you want to hear about Martha!

Martha, Martha, Martha.  I just love how one day, she's in the slammer, and the next, she's donning a sunny yellow cardigan and prim khakis and beaming through our television screens like the perfect housewife next door. 

I know Martha is the arbiter of all things good.  I know she's idolized by many.

But I just don't get it.

Maybe it's because I don't have the patience for anything involving glue guns and glitter.   Or maybe it's because I can't even keep a houseplant alive and consider boxed macaroni and cheese a complete meal.

Whatever the reason, the truth is that I've always found her pretentious.  Condescending.  Annoyingly perfect--with the exception of that prison term, of course.  

So, I'm not quite sure how this decidedly UN-Martha blogger got invited to attend her show.  But I wasn't about to pass up a chance to expense a trip to New York City and observe the creature in her natural habitat.

Which was warm and cloyingly cute.  Kind of like the bright colors they forced us all to wear (I settled on a cobalt blue dress and turquoise tights--that's as bright as I get, folks) and the squealing mommy bloggers who packed the audience.

There were the requisite cooking segments.  Pad Thai with @chezpim and orange almond cakes with Jeff Blumenkrantz, who stole a page from Julie & Julia and wrote a blog about cooking Martha's recipes, which of course led to a cookbook and will invariably make it to a theatre near you (after all, Blumenkrantz is Broadway actor--can the Martha musical be far behind?).  

The other guests included Martha's extremely frosty daughter, Alexis, who looked beyond pissed that her mother had interrupted her morning of bossing around servants and shutting down city streets to deliver her furniture to come to the studio to chat about blogging; the very likeable Jennifer Koppelman-Hutt, who played the recorder and joked about surfing porn  online and seemingly had nothing in common with her blogger-in-crime, Her Highness Alexis; and semi-stalker Andrew Ritchie, who has a blog all about Martha, which naturally led to an invitation to be on the show and participate in some tedious yarn craft.  So, if I start a blog about Dolly, will she invite me to sing on stage with her?  A girl can dream.  (by the way, Happy Birthday, Dolly!  I love you!)

In spite of my growling tummy (even with the abudance of food, no one offered to share with the hungry masses) and my complete inability to sit still for longer than fifteen minutes at a time, I really enjoyed the experience.  Martha was very engaging, and you have to admire anyone who can not only rock six inch Yves Saint Laurent heels, but survive a public scandal and land right back on the top, with grace and ease.

So, thanks for the memories, Martha.  And click here for my one second of fame (opening shot, on the right, less than a second in)! :)

Me? Martha?

In case the squeals of delight have somehow escaped your ears, you know that me and three other local bloggers--Shameeka Ayers, aka "The Broke Socialite," Tami Hardeman of Running with Tweezers (named 2009's best blog by the AJC) and Ashley Leckey of IceMilk Aprons--are headed to New York City tomorrow for Thursday's taping of the Martha Stewart blogger show.

The four of us sat down last night in Shameeka's "studio" to chat about the show for an episode of Gasp. Swoon. Faint.  And it occured to me that I was woefully out of place.

I am so NOT Martha.  I rarely cook.  I have no home decor to speak of.  In fact, I'm kind of a slob.  I don't do crafts.  I can't even sew on a button.  Like any good Southern girl, I do have monogrammed stationary, a full set of china and decent linens, but I can't remember the last time I used any of the above.

But hey, I like pretty things as much as the next girl, and I'm not about to pass up a trip to New York City to see an American icon.  So, as long as I can find something suitable to wear, look for me on Thursday!

It's a good thing.

Full Disclosure

When I started blogging about two years ago, I chose a pseudonym--partly because it seemed literary and cool, partly to protect my privacy, but mostly because I was a tentative writer--scared to expose the real me to the big, bad virtual world.

So, no surprise that two years have passed, and two pseudonyms and three abandoned blogs later, I'm still using the same crutch.

I initially started this blog as a way to vent my frustrations about the crazed, unglamorous life of a publicist. I wanted a place to talk freely about my annoyances, grievances and failures--anonymously, of course, so as not to incriminate myself or my clients.

I initially shared my blog with a select few--an "easy" audience of very close family and friends. The response was overwhelmingly positive, and so I shared it with a few more people. And they shared it with others. And people kept saying "I thought your name was Laura. What's with this Carrie business?"

And then I realized it was yet another mask, an artificial layer to buffer me from potential criticism or commentary. Which is pretty much the opposite of what blogging--what writing, really--is all about.

As E.B. White wrote, "writing is both the mask and unveiling."

So I, Laura Scholz, am unveiling myself to you and committing myself fully to the words I'm putting out here in cyberland.

c'est moi