I never feel guilty about discussing other diarists or their diaries here, as one of the charms of a specialized writing genre is the small world aspect. As a kid, I absolutely loved reading the introductions in Isaac Asimov's science fiction anthologies primarily because of the glimpses of personal relationships between the writers.

I feel utterly self-indulgent and slightly guilty whenever I talk about my garden, the weather, my pets, and my calm, happy life. I also thoroughly enjoy writing about them. My only consolation is knowing no one reads this diary expecting an exciting, cutting edge, angst-filled lifestyle. My only sorrow is no one reads it expecting smart, thoughtful commentary about politics or society.

Everyone likes the travel agent stuff: the wacky clients, the travelogues, the geography lessons. Wait, there are no geography lessons. Well, there's going to be. I'm going to start a weekly Geo Quiz. It's going to be five questions about a country, or a group of islands, or a region. It's going to be hard. There will not be prizes.

As for understanding why anyone reads this journal and not another, well, I take a couple of things for granted. If I write well and amusingly, someone will read it. For that matter, if I write regularly, someone will read it. This is because I am a competent and amusing writer. It is a learned skill, one I am proud of. If someone doesn't like my writing, and there are many people who couldn't care less about it, I do not interpret this to mean they hate me anymore than I would assume they hated me if they didn't happen to like the meal I served at dinner. I also don't assume it's because my writing sucks. It doesn't. Which is not to say it couldn't be improved, for it certainly could. But I can't be all things to all people, no matter how much I admire other writing and other approaches.

I feel no guilt at all about that.

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