Writing a blog can be detrimental to your social life.
Or so I’ve heard.
People either friend you because they want to be mentioned or they are terrified to talk to you for fear they will be mentioned.
And then, there are those who say things like, “You really put a lot out there. Are your kids ok with this?”
To which I say, “What do you mean? You mean when I mention things like my son’s ADHD? Yeah, he’s ok with that. He’s not ashamed of it. There’s a lot I don’t mention but most of what I do, they’re ok with.”
Here’s what I coulda’ woulda’ shoulda’ said, had I either been thinking on my feet or just downed a martini:
I am not a Disney mom blogger. Nor am I a “social promoter,” one of those women who blogs and tweets about new ways to incorporate Kraft products into your recipes. You’ll never catch me being called “Mommy Mouseketeer” or “Blonde Mom”. And yes, I feel confident saying “never.”
I am a writer. Writers write because it’s in our blood. And nowadays, writers who want to remain relevant, use social media. They blog. They tweet. They Facebook.
I am also a person who doesn’t like bullshit. I prefer you be straight with me. You don’t have to share all of your dirty laundry, but you also don’t have to pretend your failing marriage is a model of stability. You don’t have to hide your children’s transgressions lest I judge them harshly (they’re children—transgressions are a learning tool, no?). You don’t have to keep up with the Joneses for me. Chances are, I neither know nor care about the Joneses.
So if I feel my calling is to be a writer and I don’t want to put up with your bullshit, logic tells me I should not shovel any into what I serve you on my blog.
So yes, honey, you will find out my son has ADHD, a fact he has shared with classmates freely. You will also find out—horrors—that he is not a perfect son and I am not a perfect mother. But if you hadn’t figured that out by your advanced age, I feel no guilt in enlightening you.
You will find out I struggled after my divorce. That I hate online dating but tried it out. That my parents’ deaths put a huge hole in my heart that has not gone away—and probably never will.
I know you think you know me—from school, from cocktail parties, from a chance meeting in the grocery store—but I’m not really writing for you. I’m not writing for the voyeurs who will read to get a glimpse into someone else’s life so they have something to gossip about at the next girls’ night out. I am writing for the hundreds of people out there that I may never meet, but can relate. Who are able to feel a pain they were struggling with because I was able to express it for them in words that weren’t coming, no matter how hard they tried. For the mothers who try their damndest with kids who make it messy sometimes—especially the moms doing it on their own.
I’m writing for the kindred spirits who know that what we share, with the right intentions, can change the world because shared experience is one of the great unifiers.
I am proud to be a writer. I am proud of being as honest as I can be without being truly hurtful to others. I am proud to see my boys realizing that in truth, there is strength. That no matter what you do or don’t put out there, playing it safe does not a life make. That there is more honor in being in the ring, come success or failure, than sitting ringside making sarcastic comments.
There’s a reason I’m called candidkay. Without the candid, it’s not me. And I don’t think most of you would read bullshit, or you wouldn’t be following me.
So thank you to everyone who feels it. Who reads without judgment or horror or disdain.
And to the rest of you, I must say, candidly, there’s a Disney mom blogger out there somewhere waiting for you to follow her. And I think she’s just itching to share a recipe with you. A bland concoction with little spice.
Should suit you just fine.
19 Comments Add yours
I wanted to hi-5 you several times while reading this!!!
I’ll gladly accept those virtual high fives!
And that’s why I follow you from the other side of the world! No bullshit. I like it.
And I you:). A mere globe can’t stop us!
Bland is boring, bring on the spice. 🙂
“I’m writing for the kindred spirits who know that what we share, with the right intentions, can change the world because shared experience is one of the great unifiers.” yes! 🙂
Your WHY comes across loud and clear creating a strong foundation of authenticity in your writing. That’s what makes me people (me!) want to read.
Thank you. You nailed it better than I did:)
Even though what I write about are real events and are my real feelings, I blog anonymously under a pseudonym. That may change as I grow in confidence.
I admire your raw honesty in putting your true self online.
That takes courage.
It’s a conundrum. Had I been wise enough to blog anonymously, there are so many more things I could share without hurting others. So I share what I can–trying to keep the lines of distinction there to protect those I love. You probably have a lot more freedom than I do.
That is true. I am finding that with people’s comments. Some people are much more open I their comments than in their own blogs (because the comments are less traceable).
The happy life blogs are truly boring. I had somebody told me that some of my blog posts made them wince….maybe that’s the other extreme. I get what you’re saying and endorse it wholeheartedly.
I’ve just checked out your blog–couldn’t resist after that intro:). And I love it. Thanks for the intro–and for the kind words.
Here’s one that sort of sets the bar (low, I guess). But it pretty much jibes with what you said in your post.
You would probably appreciate this one.
Love your blog. As a recently divorced full time working mom of 3, I can relate to your words. Don’t need to read about someone’s fake life full of butterflies and hearts and flowers. There’s enough bullshit out there and I appreciate your candor and wit. If people want unicorns and rainbows they should look elsewhere. Write on!
Thank you! A kindred spirit:).
We writers succeed when we find the singular story idea that strikes a universal chord. And that is what you do, honestly, Kaye.