Another day without Andy, another Atlantic Monthly article.

Riley spent most of his day going between the two pillows I laid flat on the couch, taking turns lying on each. Sadly I am not that easily entertained. Instead, I spent most of today tearing up over television (We Are Marshall and Grey’s Anatomy reruns) and cleaning. Much more interesting, right?

Aaaanyway…

Once you get past the intro, “Writing, Typing, and Economics” is pretty good, contrary to what its title might suggest.

All writers know that on some golden mornings they are touched by the wand — are on intimate terms with poetry and cosmic truth. I have experienced those moments myself. Their lesson is simple: It’s a total illusion. And the danger in the illusion is that you will wait for those moments. Such is the horror of having to face the typewriter that you will spend all your time waiting. I am persuaded that most writers, like most shoemakers, are about as good one day as the next (a point which Trollope made), hangovers apart. The difference is the result of euphoria, alcohol, or imagination. The meaning is that one had better go to his or her typewriter every morning and stay there regardless of the seeming result. It will be much the same.

The best place to write is by yourself, because writing becomes an escape from the terrible boredom of your own personality.

And one of particular interest to me, She Who Cannot Be Funny To Save Her Life:

I would urge my young writers to avoid all attempts at humor. … Humor is an intensely personal, largely internal thing. What pleases some, including the source, does not please others. … Also, as Art Buchwald has pointed out, we live in an age when it is hard to invent anything that is as funny as everyday life.

Hmm, should I let Dooce and Jon Stewart know? Oh wait, their humor IS based on everyday life.

In a recent radio interview, Dooce talks about how a blog must have soul to attract a loyal fan base. Just like with a TV show or book, the writer of a blog must develop characters that readers care about in order to draw the audience back day after day (or week after week, depending on the frequency of the posts).

I think that’s why I realized after just a couple weeks that my blog couldn’t be merely professional. Not only was it unsatisfying for me to write only about writing or reading, but I can’t imagine that those topics would satiate any normal reader for very long. (Whatever “normal” is.)

So that makes me wonder, who are my characters, and what about them is compelling? Of course, I think my friends and family are interesting — that’s why they’re my friends and family! — but do you? Should you? Have I done enough (or anything) to make them interesting?

I think that’s what I need to be more mindful of in the future, both for this blog and for my fiction writing (which features a slightly different kind of “friends and family”). Even if every post or story doesn’t flow as part of some larger linear stream, there needs to be some sort of narrative that holds it all together. There needs to be something that readers can connect to, follow, remember.

I’m not sure that every blogger puts this kind of thought into what they type into their content management system before hitting “Publish.” I know I usually don’t. But I think that’s part of what makes Dooce so successful, and unique.

From “Getting There”:

We spend years and years of our lives discovering who we are, and it’s not a sudden realization, but one day you figure out who you are, that you are the type of person who likes to be in charge, or you are the type of person who likes to be given a list of tasks. Maybe you’re the type of person who can’t have fun unless you know that the other people around you are having fun, or maybe you’re the type of person who has fun no matter what. And if you’ve had enough therapy you’re okay with that, you’re okay knowing that this? This is who I am.

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Lately a lot of things have been pushing me toward an edge. What edge, I wasn’t sure. Maybe I’m still not. But wherever this is, I’m standing here, looking down, looking up, looking back, and looking around, and trying to figure out which is the best way to go.

I spent this past year trying to do many things. First and foremost, I tried to be a good daughter and a good lover. I tried to be a good dog-momma. I tried to be a good writer, and a good account manager. I tried to be a good friend. For a while I even tried to be a good dancer. What was I thinking?

But seriously, I tried to do a lot of things, and sometimes I succeeded at some of them, and sometimes I succeeded at none of them.

Before this year, I thought I had learned from my father not to try to do too much at once — to be the master of one trade instead of the jack of all. I thought I had learned from my mother to pursue your dreams and never think you’re not good enough, never get discouraged when you face setbacks.

What I really learned, at least this year, is that I still have a heck of a lot to learn. And as usual, I have to learn the hard way: by doing and experiencing for myself. By making mistakes.

But that’s okay, because now I know more about who I am. I am not the kind of person who can do everything — at least not well. I am the kind of person who wants to numb her mind with television every now and then. I am the kind of person who can’t cook to save her life. I am the kind of person who is willing but still sometimes afraid to go after her dreams.

And that’s okay.

Now that I know a little bit more about myself, I am setting new goals and reorganizing my priorities. I am making changes where change is needed. I am letting go of the bad, even if it means losing some good too. I am facing my fears head on — I am being Batman, as Andy would say.

So, cliché as it may be, I’m standing here on the edge of this cliff, and I’m going to leap. I’m going to have faith in myself, and leap.

And I’m pretty sure I’m going to fly.

Do you know what being all caught up with Dooce is like? It’s like being forced to read Harry Potter one page at a time. And do you know what being forced to read Harry Potter one page at a time is like? It’s torture.

TORTURE!

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(And yes, that means I have read every. single. (currently public.) post. on Dooce.com.)

Rule #1: Do your own thing.

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Every now and then, I get into a phase. Some might call it obsession. Me, I just call it enthusiasm.

Among my past phases: Sanrio, the Spice Girls, boys, and Harry Potter. Because I’m extremely nostalgic, and still a kid at heart, I will love each and every one of them until the day I die, but (thankfully) the intensity of that love will fade.

(Making room for NEW intensity!)

Right now I think my friends would agree, Dooce is my big obsession current phase.

I’ll be honest, I’m addicted. But I do think I’m learning a lot by reading each and every post in her archives. Sometimes it’s useless info (like what she was reading on July 30th of 2004) but sometimes it’s truly brave, or hopeful, or heartbreaking (in the most beautiful way), or just plain hysterical.

Her ability to turn anything — the ordinary – into a captivating story, it’s spectacular. It’s what I’m enjoying, and what I’m trying to learn.

That’s why I originally had “learning to be funny one dooce at a time” as the subtitle in my header image. But as Andy pointed out, that sort of gives the impression that I’m copying her, that I’m not that original, that I’m not doing my own thing. And that isn’t true.

(I’ve since changed the subtitle to “always leaping before she looks,” which IS true. I plan to change the header every few months anyway.)

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