A-Z Blogging Challenge: B is for Blogging

Should writer's blog?

When I started blogging three years ago, I did it purely as an experiment and because I like writing, whether an article for a magazine, a blog or a novel.

I also knew that blogging can be a very good way for a writer to build a platform, to get your name out there. It can also provide a support network, and build friendships. If writing is your day job, it can be a very lonely profession.

Recently, however, many people in the blogosphere and even in the publishing industry, are doubting whether blogging is good for authors. Shouldn't a writer put all his or her energies into producing the thing they want to to produce, ie books, rather than blog posts?

I've noticed that there's also a school of thought where if you are a non-fiction writer, setting up and keeping an informative blog on your specialist subject is almost a must, whereas for fiction writers it might be more of a distraction to have to keep up blogging as well as 'proper' writing. There's an excellent recent blog post about this on Joanna Penn's blog, The Creative Penn.

Personally, I know I wouldn't be the writer I am today if it wasn't for this blog.

Firstly, my first published novel, The Englishman (which incidentally is on a short free promotion at the moment), was born out of a set of blog posts I started writing here (remember How I Came to be in England?).

Secondly, I've made numerous friends since I started blogging. These online readers and fellows writers have spurred me on in ways I could not have imagined before I started writing a blog. You guys gave me confidence to finish The Englishman, as well as to bring out my other two novels, Coffee and Vodka and The Red King of Helsinki.

Thirdly, I have learned a huge amount about publishing, book marketing, and - yes- writing through having this blog and reading other blogs.

Lastly, writing a blog has taught me discipline in writing. For instance this A-Z Challenge is just what the doctor ordered for me right now. With all of my completed books out, I literally need a kick up the preverbal to get me going on a sequel. (Not telling you which book will have a sequel yet…it'll be a surprise!)

So, for me as a writer, blogging is a must.

Strindberg's Daughter - my new blog

Me posing as Strindberg's Daughter

For my birthday a few days ago I decided to give myself a rather unusual present: a new blog. For some time I've been writing theatre reviews here but thought that they deserved their own place in the blogosphere. Strindberg's Daughter was born!

Those of you who've been reading this blog for a while know about my slight obsession with Strindberg; being his daughter is a fantasy that I may yet write about. I don't want to say too much about this here in order not to jinx it, but that's where the name came from.

To celebrate the launch of my new theatre blog, the blogger extraordinaire, fashion editor who divides her time between London and Manhattan and writes about love, life, fashion, design and food, LibertyLondonGirl, asked me to write a guest post on her LLG blog. I am so terribly honoured that I can hardly speak...or write. 

So, here it is, my first guest post ever on LLG. Hope you like and it - and like my new blog too!

It's Been a Year....

When I started my blog a year ago I had a difficult decision to make: To be anonymous or to write under my own name.

Being anonymous you could write everything in your mind, perhaps helping those in similar situations, without ever offending anyone. You could write about your innermost thoughts, without becoming a figure of ridicule, or pity.

As a writer trying to break into the industry, you could use a blog to invent a whole new back story of your own life, and then carry it on, in the vein of Bridget Jones' Diary. Or you could write your own controversial story, like the Diary of a Call Girl. Sadly, my professional life hasn't been spent in that area. Anyway I felt both of these genres have been done to death. And if you were very successful at some point you'd have to 'come out'. Keeping a secret in the public eye is a notoriously difficult thing to manage.

On the other hand who cares? If all you want is fame and fortune what does it matter how it happens? Discuss.

To be honest, a year ago, I didn't really think too deeply about the matter. I just wanted to write a blog because I actually like writing under no pressure. I wanted to write about what it's like to come and live in the UK from a country no-one has heard of, or at least hadn't when I moved here. I didn't consider writing a Bridget Jones' type story at all. I didn't think I'd write anything 'creative' on this blog. If anything, I thought I'd join the blogosphere to learn more about writing, the publishing industry and agents. I didn't expect I'd make so many friends online, nor that I would start writing the story of my life here. As you may imagine, writing about matters so close to my heart hasn't always been easy. However, I know I've been as truthful as you can be after 25 odd years, and I know I've been honest to myself.

Of course there have been times when I've regretted the decision to write under my own name. There were times I would've given my right arm to write candidly about someone close to me, or about a problem which will remain nameless but which has plagued me for six months now. Or just write a humorous piece about people I know or work with, without repercussions. There were times when I did write something untoward and paid dearly for it. Sometimes I've even considered starting a separate blog just to vent my anger, frustration or delight without limits. Perhaps one day I will, or have already done so. The beauty (or the ugliness) of the online world is no-one knows.

But a year on, I'm glad I'm here, under my own steam as it were. I'm glad I have readers who enjoy my story. New friends who drop in and make cooing noises when I'm miserable, laugh when I'm trying to be funny, sigh when I'm happy. Even tell me if my haircut is OK or not.

So here's a big thank you to you all. Couldn't do it without you.

February is a good month

I've noticed over the years I've made several positive decisions in the month of February.

As I went to my Pilates class at the local gym today (mainly to warm up as the heating is still not on in the house) they told me my annual membership would run out in a week's time. I remember the good feeling I had when, this time last year, I handed over the cash to the friendly girl at the desk promising myself 3-4 weekly session in the gym, Pilates and Yoga, even considering doing some circuit training. You've guessed it, things didn't quite work out that way. I've struggled to get to the gym once every week, but I've kept myself fitter this year than for a little while.

In this positive frame of mind I also agreed to start running The Babington House Book Club a year ago in February. This venture has had its ups and downs, and I'm still in two minds whether it's worth carrying on, but on the other hand I've had the pleasure of reading and discussing some wonderful books with some very interesting people over the year. I've made a few friends and even though some of the books incurred heated debates, I wholeheartedly recommend every one of them:

The Post Office Girl by Stefan Zweig

A Florentine Death by Michele Giuttari

The Master Bedroom by the wonderfully inspiring writer and teacher, Tessa Hadley

The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery

The Road Home by Rose Tremain

Heart Burn by Nora Ephron

Another great decision I made this time last year (the 17th of February 2008 to be precise) was to start a blog. I was already on Facebook, mainly to communicate with friends and Son, and I'd been reading Liberty London Girl among other blogs, but just in the capacity of a 'lurker'. I didn't dare to comment on anything, nor become a follower. Looking back at that time seems so strange. To be an active member of the blogsphere is now one of the most natural and rewarding things in my life. Of course from blogging I went onto Twitter and my on-line life was complete.

So what is it about February that makes us - or me at least - feel so positive? Is it because at last the days are getting longer (though not warmer yet), is it because there are so many things to look forward to in this month? In Britain there's Pancake Day and half-term holiday.

But in Finland the short month of February is filled with noteworthy dates.

Instead of Pancake Day we have Laskias Tiistai, or Sledging Day (Shrove Tuesday). This is traditionally spent hurtling down the longest and steepest hill in the neighbourhood on a sledge and eating sweet buns filled with whipped cream.

In early February there's a day celebrating the life of Runeberg, the Finnish national poet who penned the words to our National Anthem, Maamme Suomi. In the vein of how Finns celebrate anything or anybody, there's a cake, or pastry, named after him. These little sweet cakes are only sold around the Runeberg Day so I usually miss having a taste. This year, however, on Books From Finland site, which I regularly visit to get updates on what's going on in Finnish Literature, they published a recipe. I'll definitely try it out even though the day has now passed.

Furthermore on 28th February Finns celebrate the Finnish Culture Day, Kalevalan Päivä.

Then everywhere in the western world it seems, there's Valentine's Day. If anything, a bit of romance surely will get the positive energies flowing through one's body? Husband and I don't usually go out, but try to have a romantic meal at home, and definitely give each other at least a card. If you, however, go for gifts and are unsure of what to buy the male love of your life this year, the wonderful Mrs Trefusis posted a wholly comprehensive list on her blog earlier this month. Go and admire her impeccable taste.

When I was still living in Finland we didn't celebrate Valentine's Day at all. I remember vividly a few months after I'd met the Englishman in February 1981 I got a card from him with the puzzling message, 'Be Mine...' and a question mark under it with a small letter 'x'. I recognised the handwriting so knew it was from him but couldn't for the life of me understand why he didn't say so. And what was the little 'x' all about? Of course I now know how very romantic that was.

Nowadays in Finland Valentine's Day is celebrated as Friendship Day, very much in the vein of the Americans. There's a humorous description of Valentine's Day in the US from a British viewpoint on Expat Mum. But I'm still finding it strange to get cards or messages from my friends and relatives in Finland. To me Valentine's is just for lovers. Call me old-fashioned.

Whatever it is, romance, culture or the memory of sledging in the snow, I do feel different in February. Perhaps it's the efforts Husband and I traditionally make in January to be without the Devil's Juice, although in past few years we've only managed to drink less, not be wholly abstinent. Perhaps it's the lack of alcohol that makes me feel better in February? I'm not sure, and I'm not prepared to repeat January's efforts all through the year, even though I know I really should. I love good wine too much. Besides, positive and over-productive Helena Halme year around would drive my family around the bend. There is a danger I may also start to annoy myself, or even burn out. And we couldn't have that now, could we? I say this while starting to warm up a bottle of Rioja (stored in the Siberian climate that is the lobby) in front of the fire, ready for this evening's well deserved tipple. Misguided?

Readers and followers unite

I get many comments from friends and acquaintances about my blog. They enjoy it and often send me an email, facebook message, even text to let me know. Which is really, really nice and great. But....it would be really, really even nicer if those who do like the stuff I post would take just that little bit of time to follow my blog.

Someone in the blogosphere said blogging is like sex - it's no fun on your own. This depends on your age and sex, of course, but as you can probably tell from my picture I am neither male nor a prepubescent one.