Since I wasn't feeling up to writing in the last couple of days, I spent a good deal of time browsing the Net, reading more of the Open Pages diarists (97 of them! Will it ever stop!) and realizing how many people do not ascribe to my personal mantra: there is such a thing as an unexpressed thought. Of course, there are readers who love that sort of thing, I'm sure. And it must be cathartic, and good, for the writers to spill it all onto the bandwidth for anyone to read and maybe comment on. Feedback is all, to some people. But I do wonder how many of those kinds of diarists ever learn to write.

Maybe I am wandering down the wrong path here. Maybe those kinds of diarists (and forgive me for temporarily segregating you from other kinds of diarists) don't have learning to write as a goal at all. I'm guessing the majority of them want to have an impact on an unseen readership. What I wonder is, do they equate being a good writer with being a popular journal keeper, or do they think it all comes down to personality? It's an ambiguous area. Certainly, there are diarists who don't put much writerly quality into their entries but still manage to be engaging. The deal for me is that I don't read those diarists for long. I scan over a couple entries, and that's it. I'm not terribly interested in other people's lives unless they write it up entertainingly.

Here's who I read, for what it's worth: Countdown to the Big Four-Zero, Ceej's Battered Black Book, The Paperwork, The Mighty Kymm, and Words. These are the ones I'm always interested in. I read other journals, but not daily. I like other journals. I just have this thing about someone being able to write well, you see. Luckily for me, all these journal keepers are members of Open Pages. Luckily for you, too. Why not go see why I'm so fond of them?

And while you're there, give them my cold. Just as a friendly gesture between friends.