Eric Schlehlein, Author

The Unexpected Side-Effect of Creating My Blog

I just read a post about Naomi and Logan battling for the Goblet at the Genesis Fencing Club.  That’s so damn ridiculous.  I don’t know anything about fencing.  I hadn’t planned on a fencing education.

I have as much time for reading about fencing as I have for bronchitis.

I’ve been at this blogging thing for two weeks or so now.  I didn’t get into this willingly.  Long story made short:  I did it because the publishing industry tells me I have to do it.  Am I really writing about this again?  I’m still trying to polish my manuscript and then begin my second novel.  With my job(s), my family, my hobbies, my whatever, I don’t have time for a blog.  Besides, who’ll read it?  What will I write about?  You get it.

Alright, I’ll write occasionally on this “WordPress” thing.

Woah, there’s a lot of people writing on this “WordPress” thing.  I don’t have time to read what anyone else is writing.  Too bad for all of them.

Hey look, some guy wrote a poem about aluminum siding.  Hang on, I’m gonna get me a cold pop.

An hour later, I’ve read posts about Joe Buck, Mount Rushmore, CSS guidelines, and Dungeons and Dragons.

I haven’t played Dungeons and Dragons in 27 years.

I get lost in topics like icebergs, iceberg lettuce, heat waves, and riding waves.  I’m fascinated by someone’s passion for table tennis and someone else’s lack of passion for passion.  I blushed at an excerpt from an erotic novel.

I read about “MAN STUFF,” like monster trucks and football.  I read about “WOMAN STUFF,” like doilies, and Longaberger Baskets.

I’ve been misty and angry about lost loves, cancer, rejection, betrayal, rape, and attempted murder.  I’ve been amazed by the resilience of people who have survived the most dreadful events possible and yet can still see the good in God, the world, and their fellow-man.

I’ve read posts about diapers and menstrual cycles, my brain absorbing each one like a….

Sweet Brown!  Did I really almost make that joke?

I’ve spent more time reading YOUR blogs, my fellow bloggers, than I’ve spent in working, writing, editing, eating, and driving in this past week.  Yesterday, someone accused me of “spam liking” posts.  Is that really a thing?  Spam liking?  I promise:  If I liked your post, I read your post.  I may not have understood it, but I read it.  I am guilty, however, of “following” more bloggers than I could ever legitimately follow.  Need a follower?  Just cough.  I’ll probably jump and click it.

I’ve read spectacularly worded posts about the most boring, trivial things.  I’ve read posts in need of spell-checks and major grammatical overhauls that tell the most fantastic stories.

I’ve laughed, cried, cringed, yelled, smiled, frowned, shared, screamed, and rolled my eyes because of YOUR posts.

I stopped reading books when I started reading your posts.  Last year, I read 108 books.  I was in the middle of “Intelligence,” by Susan Hasler, when WordPress kidnapped me.  I’m wondering now if I’ll ever get back to it.  Right now, I don’t give a shit.  No offense to Ms. Hasler.  I was enjoying her book.  If she’d share chapters of it in a blog I’d be sure to read them.

When I’m not reading blogs, I’m thinking of tags to enter, such as “leotards” and “Casper Weinberger,” just to see what pops up.

God, help me.  This is addictive.

Alright!  Everybody stop writing for the next four years or so.  That’ll give me time to catch up.