Sometimes a line from a book or story makes me laugh out loud. (This can be embarrassing if I’m running while listening to an audio book.)
I’ll show you what I mean.
There’s this one, from "The Cheapjack," a short story by Frank O’Connor:
"Now, Carmody was a conceited young man who thought that everything about himself was of such importance that it had to be recorded for the benefit of posterity."
What would Frank O’Connor say about our blogging, twittering world?
Or this one, from The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins:
"My daughter Penelope has just looked over my shoulder to see what I have done so far. She remarks that it is beautifully written, and every word of it true. But she points out one objection. She says what I have done so far isn’t in the least what I was wanted to do. I am asked to tell the story of the Diamond, and, instead of that, I have been telling the story of my own self. Curious, and quite beyond me to account for. I wonder whether the gentlemen who make a business and a living out of writing books ever find their own selves getting in the way of their subjects like me. If they do I can feel for them. In the mean time, here is another false start. What’s to be done now? Nothing that I know of, except for you to keep your temper and for me to begin it all over again for the third time.
"The question of how I am to start the story properly I have tried to settle in two ways. First, by scratching my head, which led to nothing. Second, by consulting my daughter Penelope, which has resulted in an entirely new idea."
What would an editor say to a beginning like that? Also, I’d like to answer the gentleman’s question: yes, we who make a living telling stories often find our own selves getting in the way of our subjects.
Then there’s this tidbit from the poem "Change" by Louis Jenkins:
"It’s more difficult nowadays to deal with
the speed of change, disturbing to suddenly find
yourself brushing your teeth with what appears
to be a flashlight."
That elicited a good belly laugh.






I can relate to Louis Jenkins’s thought. And I’ll echo your answer to the gentleman’s question. Sometimes I think we who make a living telling stories fool ourselves into thinking those stories are about anyone other than ourselves.
I have a confession to make. The other day I was walking home and I caught myself thinking in tweets. It was strange and a bit surreal. I didn’t let myself go on Twitter that evening lest I lose my soul.
Sometimes I think in blog posts. I come across a situation and I’ll think, "That’ll post!"
kind of makes one embarrassed… as a blogger it seems it is all about me. Even when it’s not, it’s still my perspective on it.
That’s true. But as I learned on my social media fast, it’s more about the community. I missed the people of the blogs more than I missed expressing myself.