As I was walking down Broad Street this morning, a girl was coming towards me engrossed in reading Belle magazine. I couldn't help myself; when she came abreast of me I turned to sneak a peek at what she was reading so intently. Instant gratification; it was my column.
I'd have smiled at her, but she never looked up and that's an even bigger compliment. Who knows, she may even decide to do one of the things I suggested in the column.
Just last week a friend had called me the day the new Belle had come out because he'd already picked up a copy (I couldn't find a copy until the next day). He was all excited because in addition to my monthly column, I'd also done a profile piece this month. "Now people will know you can write about more than just going out!" he'd enthused.
Silly me, I'd thought that all those writing awards I'd won back during my decade in publishing had proven that I could write about a variety of things. But then it occurred to me that most, but not all, of the people I hang out with now didn't know me pre-2004, so how would they know?
And certainly most of the blogosphere wouldn't have any idea that I had any writing experience, especially given the proliferation of blogs by people who've never written more than a to-do list. I'd hate to be lumped into that group. So maybe my friend had a good point.
My best friend who lives in god-forsaken North Dakota and reads me online (www.readbelle.com) even dropped me a line. "I liked your two articles. It must give you such a sense of pride to see your name in print!"
Not nearly as much satisfaction as it does when I see someone walking down the street reading me. Or even when someone tells me they read me. Therein lies the satisfaction of getting comments on my blog posts; it's proof positive that I've been read.
What could be better motivation to keep up my prolific blogging?