When I first discovered blogging, five or six years ago, I followed a small selection of blogs which had something in common, namely great writing. Some of these blogs were written by writers, others by bloggers who had a gift for writing, yet no ambitions in that direction.
The blogs provided snapshots of the bloggers' lives, both past and present. Life, death, children, broken and new relationships were covered and sometimes I would smile as I read, on other occasions I would cry. Those blogs led me to a continuing interest in the therapeutic use of journalling and creative writing.
Many of those early blogs now lie abandoned or are seldom written, though I still have links in my blogroll and on Google Reader, keen to catch any occasional post. Blogging seems to have moved in a new direction, away from the personal and over to the promotional, but I'm afraid I soon lose interest in blogs which do little other than promote freebies the blogger has received. I think we've all become rightly wary about how much personal information we disclose on our blogs and as a result something very creative is in danger of being lost.
But there are still many fascinating and beautifully written blogs out there and in the last few weeks I have found myself crying at blogs again. I have read blog posts which were truly heartfelt, yet so personal that I feel it is not right to link to them here. At a time when my own blog has been feeling very stale, I've been reminded why I first started blogging. It feels good.