Yesterday I published my 1700th blog post here on iBenedictines. There were several hundred more on its predecessor Colophon. That means a great many words have been tapped out on my keyboard and launched into the ether. What, if anything, have they achieved? I have thought aloud, irritated, amused, teased, and, somewhere along the line, I hope, have provoked others into thinking. I certainly value the contribution made by those who have commented, as I trust my readers do, too. I hope I have never been nasty or unfair to anyone, though I admit to being quite firm about what is acceptable and what isn’t in the comments section. The readership of the blog has changed over the years. Some read me no longer, or at least do not comment anymore; others persevere with every post. Now, however, I have to make a decision. Should I finally get down to that book I have been thinking about for years, or should I go on blogging? For once, it is an either/or choice because I don’t have the energy to do both. In the past I managed to write before others got up or after they had gone to bed, but I don’t think I can do that any longer. So, assuming I live long enough, it is a straight contest: blog versus book.
Blogging has the advantage of engaging directly with its audience. Responses usually come quickly and often take the subject in different directions from the one originally intended. Notably, it is a form of writing that makes no financial demands on the reader. The monastery pays for the blog and everything associated with it, including the blogger’s dinner. The downside to blogging is that it can lead to extensive correspondence or unintended rows. I still recall with horror being accused of homophobia because I once ventured the opinion that I thought most children did best if they were able to grow up with a mother and father. I didn’t actually receive a death-threat, but it came pretty close. On the whole, however, I’d say blogging is infinitely forgettable. What is written today might as well be ‘in wind and running water writ’. It is truly ephemeral.
A book, on the other hand, is a weightier prospect altogether. It makes a pitch, not for eternity exactly, but for as long as the publisher is prepared to keep it on his or her list. There may be correspondence, positive or negative, but unless one happens to be unusually fortunate, a book can prove almost as ephemeral as a blog. There is, however, always the possibility that it may endure for while; or that someone may read it, perhaps years hence, who would never bother with a blog. And there is always the hope that there may be some small remuneration, a royalty payment or two, to reward one’s labours and put a smile on the cellarer’s face. Writing a book requires more discipline than a blog and a slightly different style. I’m not one of those who think a blog can be conversational while a book must be ‘literary’, but one cannot be quite so self-indulgent in the matter of words or the way one uses them. An allusion that today is funny or topical may be neither tomorrow. In any case, ideas change, and so do we. A book does not reflect such changes: it expresses what we thought and were at such and such a time. It fixes us for ever.
So, decisions, decisions, decisions. Watch this space.