I'd like to say that I woke up this morning shocked and surprised by how many people had read my blog overnight. But that would be denying my friend insomnia. The reality is that I didn't fall asleep until after 4 AM, and surprisingly, there aren't a lot of blog readers between 4 and 7 AM Eastern Standard Time.
An English teacher once told me (Okay, lots of English teachers told me many times) that when you write you should consider your audience. Who are you writing to?
Well, up until this moment, I was writing to the great vast unknown. And in my shower - I told you I got a lot of inspiration there - I thought about you. My Audience.
Up until now, my audience was four Ukrainians and an imaginary dog. Well, that's not quite true. I had a couple of people who came back from the U.S. and who even interacted. (Of course, with "anonymous", you don't *really* know if it was someone else, or just one of the inner voices in my head)
So who do I think you are, my audience? You are willing to take a risk. You are bright people because you're still reading. You have a sense of humor. I'm not sure if it's good or simply twisted. Lord knows we haven't figured mine out, yet, so why should we know about yours? You're supportive. Or so I hope.
Will I get haters? Nah. Who could hate me?
You are kind, generous, thoughtful. Yeah. You like long walks down short beaches. Fires that you didn't set at your neighbor's house. I imagine, sadly, that you probably drink a lot of alcohol, but hey, if that's what loosens your inhibitions enough to check me out, well, then, I raise my glass to toast you.
Well, I would if it weren't 8 am on a Monday morning and I have to head to do some work today. But metaphorically, I toast you.
A writer without an audience is just a self-absorbed boob. Thank you for making me more than just a self-absorbed boob.
I will think of you a lot as I write.
Because that's what my English teacher told me to do. And my English professor. And a few others along the way.
Until next time fair reader.... parting is such sweet sorrow.