Of course, if I was any good at this blogging thing I would have had a great post over here for people to see, when they stopped by to see what the fuss was about. But I’m not good at this blogging thing. And that’s cool. If I was in this to get people to come to my site, I’d play Michele Sent Me.

I ran into to an old English teacher today. And it got me to thinking. Yes, everything gets me thinking, but let’s stay on topic, shall we. A lot of bloggers insist on call themselves writers. Many of them have aspirations to publish a book. Some of them succeed. That’s fine with me. Many of them are good writers. But I’ve always shied away from describing myself as a writer. Occasionally some misguided soul will compliment my writing and I just shuffle my feet and look at something else. This becomes even more awkward when the compliments come through email. Feet shuffling just doesn’t send well.

So why is it I have such an aversion to being call a writer? I mean I don’t think my writing is very good, but I’ve seen a few of these blogger “writers” that weren’t good either. I think it goes back to high school. I had a miserable time in English class. I never really grasped grammar for what ever reason. (It shows doesn’t it.) I was never able to write for pleasure, so to speak. I was always afraid about my sentence structure. I mean my strategy of creatively inserting comma when a sentence looks to long, really ticks off English teachers. So do fragments. I never tried to say anything, because I felt I didn’t have the tools to say it with. (that’s right I just ended my sentence with a preposition, take that English teachers! Give me a minute and I’ll split an infinitive!)

That is what blogging has done for me. It let’s me write (for the lack of a better word) without worrying about rules. What do I have to worry about. Practically nobody reads this. And If some one would happen to stumble upon my page and find my grammar offensive (perhaps they would think I use parentheses too much) they can leave. Go on get out of here. And here’s the ironic part. I’m starting to pay more attention to my grammar, all things being relative. I’m becoming a better writer. Practice makes perfect after all. It’s a shame I didn’t realize this a long time ago.