Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Best Laid Plans and How To Blog. Or Not.

Boo in B+WA year ago I started a blog. I didn’t have a hot clue what to write about.  It was just something I felt inspired to do. The goal was to write two posts a week.  Maybe more, if the muse struck with high pitched frequency.  Kind of the opposite of lightening.  Easy peasy lemon squeezy.  Really, how hard could it be?

Bloody hard.  I’m not one to make excuses, especially when it comes to myself.  But it turns out writing one post a week was a challenge. Two, damned near impossible.  And more than that, well forget about it.  What I didn’t realize a year ago was that I actually had a bit of a life beyond the iMac and the things that go on inside my head.  So I reset my sails, pared down my goal and determined that one post per week would do.  Not only would this do, it would be an enormous accomplishment.

This is my 54th post.  Bravo for me.

Little back story. I had read an article online in The New York Times by Eric Weiner called “Americans: Undecided About God.”  This article intrigued me because the premise was something I thought a lot about. God was on my mind.  Here, there and everywhere. Just a little insight into my interior world. I thought it would be interesting to engage in an online conversation with other folks of a similar ilk.  I thought there had to be millions of people out there who would love to do this.  And most importantly, participate via my blog.  Looking back, I don’t know if I was incredibly naive or full of hubris.  Or just a pompous ass.  I’ll leave that for you to decide.  Keep it to yourself though.  My ego is fragile after a year of this.

Long blog short. This didn’t happen. None of it.  You know what they say about best laid plans. I don’t either.  But I think it had something to do with mice and men.  And things not always turning out the way you expected.

As it turns out, this confounding cliche proved to be true for my blog about God. It’s painful to be reduced to a literary cliche, I might add.  Thank you very much Mr. Steinbeck.

Not that God isn’t a hot topic.  He/She most certainly is.  It’s just that very few people wanted to read my blather on this theme week after week.  Good God jumping Jehoshaphat.  Truth is, I didn’t even want to talk about it.  I only thought I did.  I thought I had tons of things to say, given the amount of time I spent pondering. Contemplating. Meditating. Ruminating. Praying to and mulling over God.  Turns out I didn’t.

I had about three posts-worth.

The thing is, I didn’t deliberately change course with the blog.  It just happened.  It took another three posts to realize that I was telling these stories about my life growing up at 204.  As it turns out very few were interested in that either.  So on that level my little foray into blogging was a colossal failure.

Either I have an extraordinary talent for picking lousy topics to write about. Or very few people care what I have to say about those topics. Or I just write poorly about the topics that interest people, and therefore, refuse to engage. Thus, the lights go dim on computers worldwide whenever one of my posts is broadcast.  Regardless, my naive, hubristic, pompous dreams of blogging to the masses was possibly just a tad grandiose.  Do you think?  Don’t answer that question.  Remember the fragile ego.  May the echo of cracking ice on a frozen country pond haunt you eternally if you dare.

Fortunately, I’ve learned to not let those kinds of failures stand in the way of having a good time.  And that’s exactly what this past year has been.  The time of my life.  I wouldn’t trade it for a wiener on a stick.

It wasn’t easy.  In fact, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  Except for childbirth.  Truth is, this blog was a bit like giving birth.  In this past year, I gave birth to a new me.  The authentic me.  100% genuine.  Bona fide and real. Most importantly, it gave life to the storyteller me.  And it set me free.

Before Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter came to life, I never in a million years would have considered revealing the things I did.  The thought was enough to make me shudder and hang my head in shame.  Oh shame. How vindictive, rancorous, spiteful, venomous, cruel and unkind you are. You are the schoolyard bully.  The coward. Tormentor and thug.

But through God’s grace, and one blog post a week, you are gone.  I, and those who shared this journey, have been liberated. Telling these stories about my life growing up with Ma and The Old Man at 204 didn’t cause my heart to stop, my world to implode as I had so feared all my life.  No.  In fact, the exact opposite was true. My heart beat stronger and fiercer.  My world exploded with love and kindness, compassion and empathy, joy and appreciation.

Although I didn’t intend to go down this path, I am so grateful I did.  Along the way, I discovered my parents, Ma and The Old Man.  I got to tell their story with all of its complexities.  Their complicated love for each other.  Their unconditional love for me, my siblings and their grand children. The lessons that love taught me.  Somehow through the rush of time and the dailiness of life, I’d forgotten that.  Or dismissed it as being trivial.  Or worse yet, not true. But this past year helped me to realize and remember all the love that lived at 204.  In all its shades, muted and glorious orange, the highlights and the dark shadows, the frostiness and the humidity, the large blue skies overhead and the beige sand beneath.  The home in our hearts and the heart in our home.

On one of our many walks together, Ma said, “I’d love to write my life story but I don’t know how. And who would read it anyway?” This notion, this gut-wrenching, heartfelt cry touched me.  Far deeper than I realized at the time.  It took years, and much practice as a writer and storyteller, to bring her story to life.  A simple tale about an ordinary woman, who in many ways, lived an extraordinary life.

I can write Ma.  I can tell your story.  Does it matter who reads it?  I think not.

As for The Old Man, had I not written this blog I may never have realized just how much I miss him. Orneriness and all. He had always been such a thorn in my side.  Not any more.  Extraction is complete.  Wound healed.  Only love remains.  I am proud and honored to be The Breadman’s Daughter.

Although there weren’t any grand discussions about God in my blog, the presence and influence of the divine was the underlying melody throughout.  God was present in every grace note.  Not only in the process of telling the story.  But in the stories themselves.  It was there.  In the space between the notes.  The reading between the lines.

As for those grander God discussions, I learned that in the end, I’m ill-equipped to have those.  I’ll leave that to Eric Weiner or Wayne Dyer, Louise Hay or David Javerbaum, even.  I could never write something so sublime and witty as The Last Testament.  Not in a million blog years.

What next?   More storytelling.  I think I’m better at that than blogging. I’ve joined Cowbird, the online community for storytellers, so all five of you can find me there.  I do have a few more Daughter stories to share with you.  You’ll find those here and on Cowbird.

If the blog survives, it’s my plan to take it in a completely different direction.  At least I think I will.  As you know, I’m easily sidetracked. And we all know what happens to best laid plans.

One parting thought, watch out for mice.

12 thoughts on “Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Best Laid Plans and How To Blog. Or Not.

  1. I think you may have missed a possible option, Boo, one that does not involve you picking lousy topics, writing poorly, or a lack of people caring. There is a possibility that your topics have been well chosen, interesting, well told and touching. That your posts have been read by many who, for reasons of shyness, ego, busy-ness, or forgetfulness, have not made comments and have neglected to start the conversations you were hoping for. Or simply that some of the posts were such perfect glimpses into the very personal that it felt almost intrusive to make comment, rather than just peer through the window you opened for us. Perhaps your readers have failed you, and not the other way around. Which is all to say, I suppose, thanks for the 54. And I hope there’s more.

  2. It’s not really over is it?

    Your stories and the way you describe them are amazing. I bet lots of people read your blog but few know the right words to respond with.

    You’ve touched me in your blogs and even made me cry. Your blog is the only blog I read on a regular basis.

    Thank you for sharing. You’re a true inspiration.
    Corina

  3. I’ve loved reading your blog BK. Lovely insights into a wise and wonderful friend. I’ll not read “a little backstory” the same way again…your writing will echo in my head when I do!

  4. Boo, I have treasured every one of your posts that I’ve read. I haven’t had time to read them all, and I hope they will continue to live here where I can come visit whenever I have time and need some inspiration from your wise heart. Time is everyone’s greedy nemesis, as you know. Having done one post a week since September as a member of my 5 Writers blog, I fully appreciate the tremendous effort you’ve put in with your 54 (54! WOW!). You have a unique, authentic and beautiful voice. You deserve an attentive, loving and wide audience. Keep writing and it will find you (yes, it needs some marketing help to do so – there’s a crazy amount of competition out there – so let your light shine). Thank you for The Breadman’s Daughter. Your bravery and discipline is exceeded only by your talent!

  5. Flash, Viv, Corina, Catherine and Silk, reading your comments brought on a flood of tears. My heart is full of gratitude. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  6. What!!!! I wait for this every weekend. Pissed when I don’t get one! I look forward to this!!! Not happy about this Breadman’s Daughter from Breadman’s Granddaughter !!!!!

  7. It’s okay Sher Ber, I never say never. Besides, I still have a few more stories to tell. But writing this blog this past year has gotten in the way of other projects. I was in the middle of the 4th draft of my 2nd novel when I started this. I haven’t looked at that in over a year. I’d like to finish novel #2 and publish it in 2013. When I’m not working on that I’ll tell a story. Love you Breadman’s Granddaughter!

  8. Bonn, while I have enjoyed every single blog, I do understand the need to feel that your hard work is appreciated by more than those who already love you! I know you will be successful with whichever direction you decide to head in “blog-wise”, but just know: this was exceptionally written, and always interesting/funny/heartwarming/heartbreaking. In short, I loved it, and if anything, it helped those close to you feel even closer.
    Thank you for sharing these stories. I LOVE YOU!
    -S

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