I Hate Blogging – Therefore I Blog
I found this message glued to my Rolodex today. A ninth anniversary present belated of sorts (the message, that is, not the Rolodex, silly), from my significant other, which had me regret that I don’t really use ink that much any more.
How wonderful it would be to inspire a million to think, by way of mere writing. I wouldn’t even dare be as presumptuous as to imagine prompting even a handful of people to think. Then again, I’m not really in the business of committing thought-inspiring writings. And that’s just it: How do you write awe- and mind-inspiringly about subjects you really can’t be bothered with yourself, such as (for the time being) labour law and an assignment publication for an employers’ federation — some twenty articles in a fortnight or so. By all means, I’m adequately qualified for both, but I’d be lying if I said I really cared. I don’t even remember my last assignment, finished about a week ago. They come in numbers, usually overlapping, all dealing with matters to which I’m perfectly indifferent, demanding my full attention, days, nights and weekends – more or less. Hell, I should’ve been at it this instant, interviewing business executives on a Sunday afternoon, in order to meet crazy deadlines.
I’m sure you’ll understand how, after weeks, nay, endless months of uninspired writing, I must yearn to write even more. The truth of the matter is, however, that I don’t feel compelled to write even about matters that I care about. Actually, writing is a curse, noe less. Still, with Nick Drake’s Which Will on my ear a sunny Sunday afternoon, I will myself to put down these lines, in order to process my reluctance towards writing in general, I suppose, which must seem quite the oxymoron — and which is when it really dawns on me: I’m actually blogging.
Could it be that a notepad and a fountain-pen would make it possible to revive my innate — now perished — pleasure in writing? With all probability it’d lead to the inevitable end to blogging (which, in all honesty, is a price that I’m more than willing to pay in order to restore my ability to write).
Or… How about abandoning professional writing altogether? I’ve played with the idea ever so often; that of taking on a whole new line of work. Baker, gardener, receptionist or a sexton (but only if it implies tonnes of sex), even. Taking my mind off thinking at all during “office” hours, ready to charge millions to think on my sparetime aplenty — with a drop of ink.
But I’ll tell you this much, in case you’re ever mislead to think writing is a “glamourous” life: It is everything but.
iNorden.org is a non-profit Nordic citizen journalism project founded by a few fellow journalists, bloggers and myself. Visit 
i am a novice writer myself. and i am finding out that writing isn’t really so much about writing as about marketing and business. i am naive and had no idea. i am presently trying to get my passion back for writing.
I could never go back to a non-thinking-job now after writing for living. But being a writer is definitely harder and less glamorous than what I thought. There’s no assisting voice-over giving clues as Carrie Bradshaw for example.
There’s research, phone calls, interviews, reading, writing. Every now and then there are some free lunches and conferences. That’s it. It’s a job like any other. Just that you have to think.
Meander: It’s a crying shame, isn’t it, that even when it comes to work that — ideally, anyway — ought to have spiritual qualities, money turns out to be such an important factor. But I tell you: Even after some 25 years of writing, I too find it hard to believe that it has to be so.
Bernie (or is that Bønna?): I suppose you’re right, even though I find the idea of leaving it all behind mighty tempting at times. The hardest part of the job isn’t really the writing itself, but the research, not to mention the follow-up on sources. That part really is a drag. Still, the worst part, I think, is having to write about subjects you really couldn’t care less about. Which, more or less, is all I do. Professionally, anyway.