Blogging has been light (actually, non-existant) for the past few days because (1) I was home all weekend, and (2) there's been a dearth of anything very interesting happening. Of course, I suppose "interesting" is all in the eye of the beholder, and of the teller. So perhaps if I were less tired and exhausted, I would be able to take the same events that have occured to me over the past few days and find something around which I could construct an interesting and thought-provoking narrative.
That's probably the mark of a good author - one who can make the mundane interesting. Then there's always plenty of material. Well, that's not quite accurate. It's not "making the mundane interesting." You can't make something into something it's not. But rather, one much "see the interesting in the superficially mundane." That's a bit of a challenge, I suppose. Or not even a challenge. It's not like you can just take some random event and get enough out of it to writing a meaningful narrative about it. Not only does there have to be something meaningful about the event, but you have to be connected to it on such a level that you can actually be invested in the narrative. The quote of the day a week or so ago was from Henry David Thoreau. "How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live." So, you have to live the events, or at least be close enough to them that you have fully internalized them, then you can purge the dross and write a narrative that is worthwhile.
Now I've defined the problem. I must live an interesting life, and then be able to recognize the parts that are interesting enough to be put to writing. Then I must write them in such a way that the interest that I see in them is also seen by others. A tall order. I think that the "interesting life" part is actually moot. Anyone's life is probably interesting enough that something profound could be written about it. And I'm certainly no exception. When I was in 5th grade, I carefully considered each of my classmates, one by one, to determine which one was the most normal. I couldn't decide, and later on I realized that this is because no one is "normal." This isn't one of those gushy, self-esteem raising, "everyone is special!" things, it's just an observation that there is something unique and interesting in everyone's life. Whether it's the circumstances of their life, or the person themself, and whether the recognize it or not, no one is completely normal, and everyone leads an interesting life.
So the challege now becomes to recognize events of interest when they happen, and to write them into a narrative when they do. I suppose something like this post is exactly what I'm shooting for - an event that is, on the surface, relatively innocuous. But when you think on it a bit more, maybe there's something there that's worth writing down. Maybe if I review the events of the weekend, I'll find something worth writing, now that I have a better idea of what to look for. The mundane is often not quite so mundane, if looked at closely. I have a feeling that if I just sit down and start writing about minor things that happened, something worthwhile might leap out. It's certainly happened before, and is yet another proof of the value of putting things into narrative.
But anyway, what I was saying at first before I got sidetracked was that nothing really interesting happened this weekend, so there was no blogging, and maybe I'll pick it up tomorrow.
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