About five months ago I opened this blog. I wrote one post or half post and never published it. I went back in yesterday read it, deleted it--not before I saved it as a separate document. How many people have started blogs since seeing Julia and Julie or Julie and Julia? or reading it? And here I am never the conformist attempting again. Do I have a project? Should I?

The real reason why I don't like publishing what I write, is that I write about me. That's what blogs are you say. And I say--how boring. I start to read a blog post and it is blah blah I think I did I want I hate I like...really who cares? These glorified Dear Diary entries deceive the writer into thinking people care about what they write about. I find myself falling asleep reading most of them...and yet...I am compelled.

I have written many peronal essays but have never published any--stop never tried to publish any--well I did try once but only with the NY Times...and it was through a friend and it was a thanksgiving story and it was too late but the answer was no, not needed at this point and I gave up. I am not a great writer. I don't have a stellar vocabulary and I speak quite plainly. I like reading great writers or rather fantastic stories by Jhumpa Lahiri, Salman Rushdie--(got a thing for indian lit)--Murakami, Ian McEwan--(sometimes)--Marquez: Love in the Time of Cholera--Amos Oz...The Hours--anyway it doesn't matter...I don't want to sit here and try to pull out of my aging brain the books that I have loved...(wuthering heights....jane austen...) and don't forget Shakespeare--but that I like to watch.

When you set standards on these how can you write? How can you write a blog...but then again if you think diary...how hard can it be?

So the purpose of this is to keep writing, post my already written stories and see what happens.