What does one write about when they have exhausted all the usual topics? Here are my typical categories of blog posts:
- I can’t wait until Friday gets here!
- Yay! Friday is here!
- Hey, it’s the weekend!
- Wait … it’s Sunday already?
- Dangit! How did Monday get here so fast?
I would say about 80% of my blog posts fall into one of the categories above. I can’t expect people to keep reading my blog when it is as repetitive as … um … a repetitive thing … that keeps repeating itself. Repetitively. But I repeat myself. Again.
I need to find new topics.
The problem with that is that the only way a person can find new topics is by doing one of the following:
- Making up stuff
- Retooling one’s life and doing new things.
Well, #2 is definitely out. I’m way too old for that. I get upset when the store runs out of 1% milk and I have to buy skim milk.
And #1 is out, because I am not good at making stuff up. If you don’t believe me, I will show you the blog stats for the attempts I’ve made at writing fiction on here. “Precipitously” doesn’t even begin to describe the steep drop-off in readership I have every time I post a piece of fiction.
So what is a poor blogger to do? When one is cursed (or blessed, depending on your outlook) with a mind-numbingly boring life and an imagination that’s about as fascinating as lumpy oatmeal (now with bran clusters!), where does one turn to jazz up one’s blog? How does one inject a shot of excitement and fascination into topics that are less interesting than actuarial tables, surveys of dirt samples, or grommet catalogs?
I envy people that do fascinating things or who are fascinated by things: people that ski or raise chinchillas or cliff dive or brew their own beer or play the zither or who bird watch or knit or … or anything.
But my brain hates me.
I try new things and almost instantly my brain gets bored and wanders away and I’m like, “Hey, come back here! I paid a lot of money for this backyard trebuchet kit!” But it’s too late. My brain is gone. Halfway through reading the instructions it grasped the concept and was instantly completely disinterested in going any further. I find my brain sitting on its old comfortable chair upstairs, staring blankly at an empty computer screen, trying to think of something to write about.
I sarcastically ask it what fascinating topic it is going to write about this time.
And it replies morosely, “Oh. You know. About how there’s nothing to write about. Or about how it’s Friday again.”