On the 30th of September in 2009, Colleen in the U.S. of A., after having been locked out of her own house, turned on her computer, set up a blog and wrote her first post, I Want in My House. There is no suggestion that the lock-out caused Colleen to set up a blog, but what is clear is that it was on her mind that first post.
Similarly, no one can really know but Bryan Hemming himself, why on the 3rd of December 2010 – just over one year following Colleen’s lock-out in the ‘burbs of U.S.A. – started a blog and depicted in his first post his beautiful village, Conil, Andalucia. The pictures are lovely. The cats to me, stole the show.
I have a fetish: it is visiting first posts.
When I cruise the cyber-highways, usually weekends, and find a blog I like, I cannot “move on” until I’ve read their first post. Why did they start blogging? And what did they branch into, or discover of themselves from whence they started? I really, really enjoy it.
“Twenty-one months of cloistered silence later, Nelle gets over her muteness,” wrote Nelle on the 20th of March in 2011. Not exactly 21 months after Colleen found herself locked out, but near enough to – and they don’t even know each other. That’s just the beauty of it – over cyberspace we can say, Colleen: meet Nelle; Nelle, this is Colleen. Then what follows, are very human exchanges: lives, thoughts, feelings, experiences.
What was that 21 months of cloistered silence endured by Nelle, and why did she start the blog? That first post flows through to today, where to visit Nelle’s blog is to see she has established herself as a powerful voice for feminism, the core of women’s rights (aka human rights).
Someone commented to me recently that my life is an open book because I blog. This isn’t so. One facet – well, perhaps a few – are open for humanity to view, relate to, be comforted if not strengthened if not inspired by. But not the whole of my life is open. Yes, just when you thought it couldn’t get any “worse” – there IS more (to me)!!!!
To read my first post, you know I started this blog because I am a writer offering the first drafting of my novel real raw and true to view, because I was writing inroads for years and etching ache into myself in the recall.
I wanted to write it away from me, put it out there, let it go. And you, the sometimes flinching audience to my heart told, relieve me simply by taking the story into your own hearts like any book read, giving feedback and encouraging me to believe I may have something to give in this world.
“…for whatever reason”, the person then continued. I write my life for the reason anyone writes an autobiography of spirit, endurance, beauty and ache: because I must.
People see an autobiography in a book store and the author, published, is excused – even lauded. But tell it first round in a blog, and you’re just an office worker with a weird inclination to speak from the soul to the world at large, from your computer in your bedroom, the cat purring at your feet. Every novel starts somewhere, and this new cyber age enables readers to see authors on the very first steps of their journey (if the author is so inclined).
“There is an excitement there right now of really being on the cusp of something new,” wrote Jordan Clary on the 9th of July in 2011. It was the first post of a new blog launched into cyberspace – she was on the verge of a scholarship adventure, and continued that she will heed advice received while living in China, and “walk slowly”. By contrast, Amy on 21 June 2011, set up her blog and wrote in her first post that she was packing, heading to Italy. At that, personally, I’d be moving quickly – throwing all at-hand into my suitcase and singing out the door.
I reckon first posts are too overlooked. They might have been read on the day they were established, by a handful of people, and then become forgotten as posts tumble one after the other and, in some blogs, snowball into a snowman of specific identity, style and humour… but where did they start at, I always wonder? I truly cannot resist hitting that first post.
“These Klaxons are just fractions to me”
said Patrick Fennessey on 31 August back in 2011,
That’s entered my life; birth since three.”
I was interested in Patrick when I first ever read his words, but that first post totally nailed it for me. I’m hooked.
First posts are part of my delight of blogging. If you wish to leave a link to your first post in my comments, feel free. It may take me time, but I will get there. I’ll have to unjam the photocopier, pretend not to hear the lowered voices of secretaries in the hallways gossiping, and fight peak hour traffic first, but I will get there.
And just in case you ever wondered whether Johnny Bollox’ blog is about Alfie:
Nothing to do with Alfie at all.”
he wrote on day one 26 March 2012.
What wrote from black ink darkness
rendered blue to purple sorrow
as lips red told true;
seeped words to bridge the morrow.
Shimmers golden life with promise
of healing and resolve
the words dark in trauma
by lighter hues dissolve.
The people they embraced
the telling as it told
the universal experience
of life what we behold.
A journey it is happening
as all we are so destined
and other souls they harkened
as openly I lesson’d.
Why does a writer write?
some of society ask
only us, fellow bloggers,
know words reveal the task.
Why does a writer right?
the unknowing they do query
only us, fellow bloggers,
we find life; know the theory.