Dialogue with my Blog:

Me: Blog, what's up with you? Why don't I use you?

Blog: You ignore me. What are you--a luddite, old, retarded? I am the way to go and you refuse to work with me. You were volunteering information about Craig's List to those older ladies at the estate sale earlier today. You told them to get started with Craig's List because the classified sections in the newspapers are disappearing, like cassette players and video tape. But have you ever used Craig's List. No. Never.

Me: I know. I'm full of it. I haven't even become blog-savvy, though my blog is part of my email signature. That's embarrassing.

Blog: Exactly. Now you're talking. Don't be such a slacker.

Me: But when I think of a blog, an image from Wally Lamb's She's Come Undone drifts across my mind--when that huge whale beaches on the New England coast and begins to stink. But that is so not what a blog is, right?

Blog: Excuse me. I am no smelly beached whale. You are for not using me!

Me: OK. I'm going to post a prompt because thinking about writing prompts is something I do all the time. Maybe that's the answer for me: write what what's already formulated in my brain.

Blog: Yeah go for it. A blog entry doesn't have to be a mini-column.

Me: But since I learn what I think and how I feel through writing, I am reluctant to post my first thoughts. Am I supposed to spend time editing my blog post before publishing it? Crap. I have work to do--a writing job due Tuesday, client work to edit and ponder, classes to plan, my journal to keep, my art journal waiting for that new project--not to mention life and a dog who needs a walk.

Blog: So post your prompt and be done with it

Me: OK. Here's the prompt: mother. What comes up when you say this word? Try writing a letter, writing about a photograph, making a cluster, creating an acrostic poem, or having a dialogue with mother. Or just write.Later in the week, I'll post a mother poem--not by me. Anything else you want to say to me, blog?

Blog: Yes. Use me. I am not a beached whale.