Very rarely, late at night, I look through my blog pieces. As any writer can imagine, anyone really, this can be an awkward and embarrassing thing to do. Particularly with just this sort of writing, the musings of blog pieces, wandering, almost irresponsible. I can't always bear to look at them, to relish exploring what I wrote five years ago. But every now and then, I think, 'hmm, not bad.' Just that they have no shape, that there's no way to make them anything other than what they are, unmarketable, except that they are like apples, just made by nature, a good thing to bite into if it's a good one.
Blogging… is it my fault such a thing was created for amateurs like us?