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Columbine was wondering, in her online journal, why anyone who didn't know her would read it. A fair question, and here's my answer:
I don't know if there are any strangers reading this, but if there are, consider yourselves welcome. It isn't an exercise in prose, unless all writing is that, but it's a piece of a life, or of some lives: a small piece, of course, but a piece.
The forsythia and maples are in bloom, and the birds are singing at each other: let's all go out and play.
I read the journals of people I already know to keep up with their lives.
I read other journals for the same reason I read non-genre fiction: because I'm interested in character(s). At some level, it doesn't matter to me whether a first-person narrative is factual: what matters is whether it presents an interesting
person, or people, or events.
The parts of your life--your writer's life--that you put in the journal definitely qualify.
Obviously, I can't tell you you're wrong--that wouldn't even be a meaningful statement, never mind a true one--but maybe this helps explain why people read a stranger's journal.
I don't know if there are any strangers reading this, but if there are, consider yourselves welcome. It isn't an exercise in prose, unless all writing is that, but it's a piece of a life, or of some lives: a small piece, of course, but a piece.
The forsythia and maples are in bloom, and the birds are singing at each other: let's all go out and play.
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