Last night, I met with a group of local bloggers to talk about why we do what we do. Our reasons for blogging ranged from fostering a sense of community, diplaying art, promoting business, providing information about organizations, looking at life from individual perspectives. We talked about the identities of our blogs and our intents.

For some folks, blogging is like a public diary…an online version of group therapy. This approach to blogging can be both cathartic and can simply help human beings connect with other human beings. For others, blogging needs to have a more clearly defined purpose. For most of us last night, our blogs were somewhere in the middle.

But also, in July, at my husband’s twenty year high school reunion, I talked at length with an old friend from graduate school, who is both a gifted artist and writer. Bobby asked me if I was still writing. When I told that I’d started blogging as a way to make sure that I was getting in some regular writing practice (aside from all of those composition assignments), he responded quite strongly.

He said, “Don’t blog, write. Don’t blog because it drains the essence of your writing and then what you really mean to say is a shadow, a glimmer. Don’t blog, write.”

I’m not sure how much I agree with what Bobby said, but I have been thinking about if for a couple of months.

Still, it was nice to talk about the craft of blogging (and I believe it’s a craft that has its own kind of legitimacy) with other bloggers. I’ve been casting around for a clearer identity for my blog, and I’ve been thinking about ways to merge my other, public, blog with this one.

And last night, as we discussed blogging and community, passing around a few laptops and sharing posts, this affirming comment from a new reader showed up in my email: “I’m new here to wordpress, by the way. Your blog is the first I’ve seen on this site, and was the reason I decided to sign up and create my own. I sure do wish you had been my comp teacher.”

I shared the comment with my fellow bloggers, many of whom have become my closest friends, and we all agreed it was a great comment…the kind of comment a blogger waits for.

And then this rainy, rainy morning, I was clicking around the news sites, looking for something to think about besides Sarah Palin and Hurricane Ike, and I found this story about 17-year-old, best-selling author Michelle Izmaylov. She writes in the sci-fi/fanstasy genre, and her book Dream Saver quickly rose to the top of the Barnes and Noble best seller list.

I didn’t imagine that in the midst of my crisis of authenticity, I would find inspiration from an expected comment and in the words of a 17-year-old girl, and yet, what I took from both my new friend and from Izmaylov is that perhaps I’m overthinking my writing identity, purpose, and venue. It is, after all, really about the writing itself and not about the when/where/why/who so much as the pure vision.

Ismaylov speaks very simply about the act of writing: “It’s a lot about not giving up….It’s a lot of planning and a lot of rewriting….Writing is just like everything else: It’s the classic 90 percent hard work and 10 percent talent. It’s just a lot of hard work.”

And so that’s the answer, really, is that the struggle, the questioning, the re-imagining is all part being a writer. I won’t say “the process of becoming a writer” because, I think, that anyone who is asking these questions already is a Writer.