I am not, and never will be, an expert on the subject of blogging. In this blogosphere that I circumnavigate I am like Neptune: more than a non-planet such as Pluto but still orbiting along its outer edges.
Even so, I’ve learned a few things about my blogging self since I began posting three years ago. I would not describe myself as a lifestyle blogger because I don’t regularly show you photos of the lovely cushions on my sofa or write about my children or chickens. I am not a cooking, crafting, decorating, fashion, art or travel blog even though I have posted about most of those things at one time or another. I have nothing to sell unless I work up the gumption to get one of those books I’ve written published. And this is, most likely, the closest I will ever get to social media.
So, what am I?
It seems to me that the mishmash I write about here at Nib’s End could be labeled bricolage. I create my posts from the scraps I have lying close to hand: a snowy day, a photograph, a book I read, a cake I make, a memory, a dream, a joy, a sunset or a loose thought that escapes. Many of you who blog, do the same. I love the whole idea of bricolage—the idea of creating something artistic out of a stash of little nothings. The artistry of the everyday fascinates me. I didn’t know there were so many interesting and creative people out there until I was introduced to them through blogging.
So, even though I am akin to that big blue gasbag of a planet in the outer limits of our solar system, I am delighted to be even a small part of the bricolage bloggers that make up my world.