Why, therefore, do I do it? It's a question that pops up in the back of my mind, rather like something in one of those amusement arcade 'Whack-a mole' games. You know the ones: the kind of thing that is rapidly disappearing since nerds and geeks (if they can be levered out of the house at all) simply refuse to expend any physical energy trying and failing to succeed at a task in the corporeal world. Up pops the question, and after a brief pause to allow mournful answers such as "OH GOD, I don't know!!!!| and "It's all so fucking depressing!", what kicks in is a poorly-formed emotional response which is best summed up as "Because I feel like I should."
Receiving feedback is one of those parts of life at which I completely suck. I actually crave feedback (doesn't everyone?) but I almost never get any. This makes it rather lonely writing blogs ( I have more than one) and even more lonely writing books.
Writing is something I do for the enjoyment and in the (possibly vain) hope that whatever I do might one day be of some use or the source of enjoyment to others. Quietly, it's becoming something that I am increasingly committed to, whether or not anyone ever engages in a conversation with me.
It looks like I'm stuck with it.