It is never cliche to wish anyone a Merry Christmas.
While this is not a religious blog, please allow me to indulge in saying this day reminds me that the God I believe was born humble, in uncertain circumstances, to later die for unworthy people. I am one of those unworthy.
Driving a long ways a few summers back, I borrowed a very overdue CD from the library. It was a collection of Billy Joel’s greatest hits, and included The Entertainer. Joel reconciles his job is not as a poet or anything noble. He is an entertainer. While he may be sardonically pointing at the corruption of his industry, the reality remains.
On one hand, I review, and I write. I take both roles seriously. How serious? If you have glimpsed at more than one page of my blog, or at my website, you know I sing and dance. I don’t write dour, thoughtful pieces. I write about humor, romance and childhood crushes. Or I muse about coffee.
No one reading will say, “There goes the American Tolstoy.” My goals are not about depth or breadth. They are about love and laughter. I work hard to achieve that.
I want traffic to my sites, advertising clicked on, and things purchased through Amazon.com. I love to write, but I also love to eat, pay my bills, and drink very expensive coffee.
When I write, I am mindful of you. All of you? Each of you? I have an image in my mind who my audience is, though I keep finding out I am wrong. And, sometimes people tell me what they think I am like, how they envision me. That’s fun too.
Christmas is coming, and I secretly hope the world’s customer will first click on a link on my blog before they buy. To do this, I need to entertain you.
I write to entertain. I love to hear someone smiled or thought wistfully of their own first love. I enjoy knowing I made you giggle, or go to Facebook to look up that sweetie from fifth grade. But I am not writing in a vacuum. I, like Joel, know an audience is fickle.
Some writers nail down the perfect piece for eternity, like Mark Twain or James Thurber. They are still loved. Those guys are a special breed though, and we work-a-day writers respect their great talent with dreams of emulating them. Popularity fades for most us. Magazines and books have quoted me, and yet, tomorrow, it all starts again. It is hard work.
Tomorrow starts today. The obvious paradox requires to imagine what will be interesting next year. This post will still be up. Will anyone read it once it is buried in the caverns of my archive? Ask me in 2019. Better yet, respond to this post.
It is worth it. I do make a few dollars, and, I love doing it despite how few they are. Even if no one reads my work, would I still do it? Probably not. I did this, though, when I made no money…
I am the entertainer and I know just where I stand
Another serenader and another long haired band
Today I am your champion, I may have won your hearts,
But I know the game, you’ll forget my name,
And I won’t be here in another year
If I don’t stay on the charts