Daily Loaf

(noun): Contemplation of one’s navel as part of a mystical exercise.

Or, alternately: A blog post about blogging.

Permit me to retroactively introduce myself. I’m the new intern/sycophant here at CL this fall. I even have my own cubicle! (Out in the hallway, where the paid staffers mock me at every turn.) Before this, I spent about seven or so years learning my craft (fucking around in various writing classes, usually half-drunk), only to discover that it’s now all but obsolete — at least in the way I’m accustomed to, thanks in part to an ominous entity known as the “blogosphere”.

You see, I have a confession to make: As a self-professed “real” (i.e. print) journalist, I’ve got some reservations about this whole blogging thing. And, based on some chatter around here, I suspect I’m not entirely alone.

Who cares? What’s so bad about blogging, anyway?

Rather than get all Buzz Bissinger on your asses, I think now might be a good time to delve into some self-reflection on the subject.

I suppose the most problematic thing for me is the fact that, well, the only prerequisite for blogging is internet access. That pretty much means anyone can do it. No fancy J-school degree; no dog-eared copy of Strunk and White; no mastery of the semicolon required. Nada. Just a keyboard and an opinion.

Obviously, this does nothing to reinforce my ego as a classically-trained newsma — er, newsperson. Where’s the craftsmanship, goddammit? Maybe the great sportswriter Red Smith was right when he said, “There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.”

There’s also the sinking feeling that, at the tender age of 26, I’m already a media dinosaur. The truth of the matter is that as more and more people get their information fix from online sources, newspapers and magazines are fast becoming quaint relics of yesteryear. Why wait a day, a week, or even a whole month(!) for the print version when up-to-the-very-millisecond breaking Action Newstertainment can be viewed with the click of a mouse? Despite our best efforts to stay relevant, we’re ultimately fighting a losing battle; and it won’t be much longer before the only reason anyone picks up a newspaper or magazine is so they’ll have something to look at while taking a shit. Soon after that, everyone will just start bringing their laptops with them instead.

Philistines, the lot of you.

But, as the shopworn axiom goes: “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Then get them drunk and steal their wallets.” The interwebs are where it’s at these days, and blogging is here to stay. Still, posting in one feels kind of like cheating on a long-term girlfriend — even if she is about four centuries older than I am.

You know what the scariest thing is, though? It’s the notion that while I like to think I’m pretty decent at telling other people’s stories, there’s also a good chance that my own anecdotes aren’t that interesting by comparison. As a reporter, I’ve gotten used to asking other people what they think; as a blogger, I’m not only being held responsible for my opinion — I’m also more or less obligated to make it more entertaining than the next guy’s. And my competition is no longer limited to newsrooms; in this case, it’s pretty much everyone out there with something to bloviate about.

Now, that’s fucking terrifying.

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