kathryn magendie on blogging

The first time I heard about blogs, or at least paid any smidgen of interest, was at a writers’ conference about eight months ago. I’d never visited a blog, much less thought about one for myself. An agent whose seminar I attended yammered on about his client’s blog, and how many visitors she had, and how it helped her gain readership for her novels, and if a writer doesn’t have a blog (or create one) then they are sorely missing out, and possibly quite stupid. I thought, “Yeah, sure, all I have to do is set up a blog and my writing dreams will come true,” (this said with quite a bit of sarcasm I might add, in case you didn’t catch that).

I came home from the conference and put my notes away, along with those by the agent touting blogs. However, the idea stayed in the back of my synaptically-challenged brain—a brain which at times jumps around like a jackrabbit on steriods, for not only did the agent’s words repeat themselves at least once a day, okay, maybe three times, as well, I was just plain curious. Settling into my chair, fingers on the keyboard, I typed in Google: Blogs. Oh, the plethora of information that appeared before me! I chose one of the “Make your own Blog Today! It’s easy! It’s free! Join the millions and gazillions of people blogging!” And, it was easy. So easy I ended up with two different blogs, along with my own website blog, and five hundred and sixty-two less hairs on my head from pulling them out attempting to keep up with two blogs and a website with its own blog.

Deciding to close down a blog was not as easy as it sounds. No, really, it is not. I had made “Blogger Friends.” People who stopped by my site, left comments and encouragement, read my daily entries, and they liked me, they really liked me! I ultimately chose to keep both blogs, but only post on one (the “closed” blog directs traffic to my “open blog”) I kept open the blog for daily posting that had the most traffic--my MSN Spaces blog, of which I was crowned “Best Of Spaces!” Wow.

Each day I open my MSN Space and then open up my mind, or my heart, my angst, my world on my mountain—I simply let whatever happens to tumble from my fingers be the blog post for the day. I post photos, have music, post my favorite books and music. And, I have been encouraging writers, something that has become most important to me. In this process, I’ve made many internet friends from all over the United States and abroad. I can’t help but think of Pen Pal days - it reminds me of this, with a “New Age/New World/New Techno” twist. The people I’ve met who blog are as diverse as the people one will meet in their “real life”—most of my Blog visitors are around thirty and over, although every now and then a younger person will come by and say hello. Maybe that amazed me the most —the amount of people my age and older, the writers, poets, artists, and genuinely kind and wonderful people, who I now have contact with—just by setting up my blog. And, one more thing...

I mentioned that agent at that conference telling us writers how if we didn’t have a blog, we were cheating ourselves out of future readers, or other magical happenings. And, I mentioned how I inwardly rolled my eyes. However, I wish I could thank Mr. Agent now, for I found my own agent through my blog, or I should say, we found each other. He visited my site, loved my work, and now we are working together as a team to publish my work. Not bad for this novice blogger.

If you haven’t visited a blog, then go visit a few. Yes, you may find some that aren’t to your taste, but, if you use your googling abilities, you should be able to find a blog or more that fits you. Once you do this, you may find that you can’t resist setting up your own blog—go for it, and if you find it is not for you, deleting it is only a keystroke away. If you’d like to visit my MSN blog to get an idea, feel free to do so, the address is: spaces.msn.com/members/kathrynmagendie and, as well, my writers' and artists' website blog is kathrynmagendie.com/howl (which I only use as my ‘professional writing’ blog entries, not as a daily blog).
Kathryn Magendie

January 9
Today as I walked the mountain, we were coming down the side of the mountain to get from Level 2 to level 1—instead of taking the roads. I watched my feet, so that I wouldn’t stumble. Good man had Not Quite Fat Dog, and they were ahead of us to the right. I had Fat Dog. I looked slightly ahead of me, and there—a trail. The trail became visible to my eye, even though there really wasn’t an actual trail —but I could see it! See the way before me. It wasn’t even and perfect, but I was able to make my way down without stumbling, just by keeping my eyes slightly ahead of me-watching the trail before me. If I looked too far ahead, I stumbled. And, when I looked behind me, the trail was invisible-lost in the woods. I thought, “What a perfect metaphor for life this is.” And it was. It is. A perfect metaphor.

January 10
Maw Maw and her Terriers
Maw Maw had two terriers—Mike and Lady Bug. Now, I always wondered if she named her dog Mike after my father’s first born son-my oldest brother is named Michael Eugene, and we called him Mike. There was John Thomas-who we called Tommy, now he’s Tom, and Johnny Kevin, who calls himself John now, and David Edwin—who was always David and always will be, and then me, Mary Kathryn (don’t I sound so nun-like?) who they called Kathy-Katnees-Seestor-Areyouontheragyoubitch, and now I go by Kathryn (or Kat). But, I digress. Mike had these snaggle teeth and was quite hyper—the dog Mike, that is. As he grew old, the little terrier would get cranky, and he’d snap and bite if anyone bothered him—especially five loud-mouthed kids running around like crazy monkeys. But, the thing was, the older he got, the more his little snaggled teeth fell out, leaving a tooth in a shirt, or shoe, or hand, or leg. And, the teeth left over jutted out in a funny little underbite-most smoothed down to nubs. My brother Johnny used to have a lot of fun teasing poor Mike so he could laugh about “Mike is gumming me. Look, here’s a tooth in my finger! Hahahahahahah.” We all had our roles—Johhny the Teaser, Mike the Rebellious, David the Whiner or David the Giggler (yes, he was both!), Tommy the Tattler, and I was Kathy the Moody (also know as the One Who Was Liable to Snap a Brother in Two Pieces If They Didn’t Stop Draping my Bras and Tampons like Christmas Ornaments so They and Their Friends Could Have a Good Laugh). Anyway. So there was: Teasy, Rebellious,

Whiny/Giggler,Tattler, and Moody—Sleepy and Dopey were our various pets (so called because I KNOW for a FACT that Michael was feeding our pets pot seeds in the 70’s!)
So, Maw Maw and Louie loved these two dogs, and when we were young, they had us convinced they were the smartest dogs in the world. Louie’d say, “Squirrel? Is there a squirrel in the back?” and the two dogs would take off, yap-yipping at high volume for the back door, as us kids would go, “ohhh, ahhhh!” None of our mangy scrangy mutt dogs from the streets that David or I would allow to follow us home ever did that! Then Louie wouuld say, “Where’s your momma? Where’s Momma?” and those two dogs would yip yip yippity slip slide over to Maw Maw, jumping around her ankles. She’d let out a screechy laugh, stamping that bare foot of hers. I don’t remember Maw Maw ever wearing shoes, except for the times when she worked—I can see her in my mind’s eye, like a photograph, standing in her flower-print dress, her patent leather purse with the gold clasp that snapped very business-like when she opened it to give me gum or peppermints (I envied that purse—I wanted a snap clasp that sounded like that, and all shiney and grown up looking, with the little strap just so to hold on to), and to complete the outfit, black sensible shoes and stockings. Not panty hose—but stockings, with a body-constricting girdle. So, she’d stamp that bare foot using that big ole leg of hers, a big lip-splittin’ grin on her face, screeching, “Oh, that’s my babies, my BAABIES!” Now, she called us “her Baaabbies” too, but we didn’t mind....

January 14
A bit ago, I took Fat Dog and Not Quite Fat Dog for their morning walk. Good Man had a short errand to run first thing, so he didn’t come. It snowed last night, and a soft snow is still falling—snow showers they are called. Since it snowed, and since it is Saturday—the men who are building two log houses on the other side of the cove were not here. They aren’t exceptionally loud, but, we can hear them hammering and sawing at times. When we pass them as we walk to Levels 1, 2, or 3, sometimes we’ll hear their music, and most times we’ll hear their chatter and laughter. It makes me smile, listening to them working. I want to believe that they aren’t the ones littering, just from listening to their musical laughs and shouts to one another...
As I stood, I listened to the silence. Not a complete silence—but a silence filled with gentle noices. The sound of the creek below me, gurgling. The sound of snow falling on bare branches, tapping. The sound of the wind, rushing. The sound of birds wings against the flying snow. The sound of snow hitting my windbreaker, pittering there. And all else was silent. I enjoyed. I appreciated. And I pinched myself, for I know how lucky I am. The journey of my life has brought me here to peace at last. No matter what else happens to or around me, I had that peace at that moment, and I have these moments every day I will live in this ancient mountain universe. I am thankful, grateful. All the pain of previous lives, before me, during me, have brought me to this place. Good Man, too. He knows. I know.