There’s one giant catch to unanonymous blogging, which is (and this might come as quite a surprise to some people) that you’re not anonymous.
For every ten posts that are made more powerful through their attachment to a real identity, there is always one post I love more than the previous ten posts combined, but which I cannot actually make public it if I want to continue being who I am and like, eating and having friends and stuff. And I do love eating.
For instance, if I’d had the sense to start this blog back in 2000, when I was working full time as a web designer, it might have been incautious of me to suggest in my blog that I was thinking of quitting because it had become difficult for me to even see what was on my monitor for all the forks I’d jammed in my eye sockets, let alone generate even one more forced-at-gunpoint dropshadow rollover button or multicolour page background.
That’s why I need to finish this novel as quickly as possible. Talking fictionalized smack is way safer than talking real smack and getting published would apply a veneer of legitimacy to all manner of smack, in either case.
Befriend: