I’m taking a class in blogging. No, really, I don’t understand why authors blog. Presumably, it’s a way to connect with readers but if I write horror stories, what will I blog about? Bolts through the neck? The odd noise as my house settles that makes me think I have a mad slasher lurking in the basement?

I’m not a journalist, or a memoirist, or a photographic essayist so I won’t have cat pictures or meandering stories about that time in my life or an opinion about the state of bitcoin or why people vote the way they do. I don’t think I’m helping myself understand why authors blog by considering the blogs I follow.

A prompt from the lesson said ‘just write,’ quoting a famous writer who said all first drafts are drivel anyway so what difference would it make if your post was garbage? But, that’s an idea so I’ll run with it.

I finished my Christmas shopping today. Not brag, just fact. As I went about the whole shopping thing, I considered whether to buy what people wanted, what I thought they would need, or what I wished I could find when I went to their house. Those are three very specific shopping themes and theme is something writers are supposed to think about as they plan their story.

Christmas is a difficult holiday because of theme. What kind of Christmas do you celebrate? Do you celebrate Christmas at all or is there another this-time-of-the-calendar-year that you do celebrate? Is your event a celebration or a contemplation or a remembrance? Is there gift giving? Is there volunteering? Is there a behavior code?

I’ve always liked Christmas. I like Christmas music – almost all of it. I like the smells of baking and pine trees. I like giving gifts to people I care about. I like seeing surprise on people’s faces. It’s the one day of the year I like being surprised.

I like being done with the shopping part early. It’s the culmination of my rumination about giving to my personal bubble of people. I have time now to think about the people I don’t see every day, who are at the periphery of daily thought, who should get some piece of time from me; to think about, consider, reach out to in some way, however small.

While that theme doesn’t belong only to Christmas, its the day that, by custom, asks everyone to offer a piece of time to others – particularly if you find them circling your mind, not exactly whispering ‘look at me, look at me’ but still there.

I still don’t understand the whole blogging thing, but I’m happy to see if I can figure it out one post at a time. Now, I think I’ll go hunt up those Christmas cards and my address book. See you soon.