Too Old to Blog
Saturday afternoon and I'm aching and sore. I spent the morning up in our attic. For fuck's sake, how did we collect so much crap?
I had a mission to clear it out. We are moving house. So we need to get rid of all the stuff we labelled "we could need that" and shoved it in the attic. And there it stayed. We didn't need it, as it turned out.
That's what got me thinking about my writing. And whether it's time to clear out there as well.
I've been blogging for years. A lot of years staring at stats and wondering if my posts are any good. I reckon it might be time to stop.
First, this isn't a sob story.
Nope. It's not "woe is me" or anything like that.
What I'm saying is: I can't keep up with the earnest and talented younger folk who blog. Here's me banging on about "back in the day" and all that.
Blogging moved on. Ages ago, I reckon. But I didn't. I know there's still room for personal essays. But I'll write about the annoyance of waiting for a bus. Why packets are so hard to open and why our so-called fast-boil kettle is anything but.
Then I write horror stories. You'll have spotted that. But the trouble is: I drive that from what I remember of gore horror from the 1980s. Shaun Hutson being my favourite author.
I like storytelling. But clinging to it like a literary life raft is what I do. I don't know how the modern web works. Social media and all that. I'm not on any of it. It's not that I've got anything against it. But that I wouldn't have a clue what to say on there.
For work I mentor and support a small but brilliant team of technologists. Developers, Solution Architects, Technical Project Managers and Technical Salespeople. It's a good thing they're there to decipher the tech. It baffles the hell out of me.
That brings me back to modern blogging. Here's the thing. I'm 61 now. A senior citizen. But I reckon it is time for me to get out of the way and let the younger folk do their thing. You're all great at it.
You don't need an old fart banging on about grumpy old man nonsense.
So, I know blogging is for everyone. It always has been. And long may that continue. If I find a way to keep going for a while, I'll try not to moan on too much.
And the horror stories?
They'll keep coming. The best thing I can offer is a quote from the legendary author James Herbert:
I never plan my novels because if I know what is going to happen, it bores me rigid. I let the story tell itself.
Right, I'm rambling, so I'd better go and put the kettle on. The one that takes fucking ages to boil.