There's something rather odd about beginning a blog when the followers count stands at '0', making it quite clear that no-one out there is planning to read these words and that, really, if anyone does stumble across this opening sentence of my very first blog then they're probably only here by accident after searching in vain for Sam Mendes, Sam West, Samuel L Jackson, or another famous name-sharer who might likewise be deciding to jot down their thoughts on the world. That's not to say that this is pointless - in fact, I quite enjoyed writing that first sentence (and this one to think of it) and I've now just offered a small prayer of thanks to every parent who decided to call their child Sam.
So, if I run with the assumption that one day someone might stumble across this page and their mouse has temporarily stopped working so they can't click the 'back' button, I'd probably better make my first words worth reading or, at least, not too off-putting that I accidentally kick-start a Facebook campaign, or something equally anarchic.
The truth is, I'm not too sure what will be typed in the days ahead. Perhaps I should follow in the footsteps of Mark Watson (www.markwatsonthecomedian.com/web/blog/) and make some grand promise to blog every day for a decade, charting each step of my thirties? True, I would need to be thirty to make it work as effectively as Mark's blog but at least it would give me a focus. Or, maybe I should go down the sentimentality route and dedicate the page to my cat, filling you in, 'Marley and Me' style, with every unwanted scratch, bite, and disappointed look she gave me, making an internet legend of little miss Maisie, perhaps even providing Hollywood with enough material to commission 'The Miraculous Misadventures of Maisie'. I would, of course, script the film and find myself played by Edward Norton in the feature film.
Unfortunately, when it comes down to it, unless there is a wave of inspiration on its way, I think I'm going to rest on safe shores for now. And yes, I too am cringing at the extended beach metaphor but sometimes you just have to make a sandcastle and hope there isn't a boy in a striped red and white t-shirt waiting around the corner to kick it in the moment your back has turned. That never happened to me, of course - the first lie of my blogging days. Enjoy.
So, if anyone has actually read down this far then I applaud you (in my head - I couldn't be bothered to take my hands off the keyboard) and ask you to drop by again sometime to see if I gave up after this post or persevered with shameless self-promotion by plugging my novel in every other sentence and name-dropping various writers and comics that I would quite enjoy meeting/working with/having round for dinner/watching House with/playing tennis with...
Hint hint, Mr Watson.
No comments:
Post a Comment