In one of Lorrie Moore's short stories ("Like Life") the main character's husband, a starving (but self-important) artist who paints these really awful paintings of wild dogs attacking businessmen, is told by an art gallery owner (I'm paraphrasing), "In nature, when a bee has something to communicate to the other bees, it does a little dance. If, however, it simply won't stop dancing, the other bees sting it to death."
When writing this blog, I always have that little tidbit in the back of my head. No one wants to be that bee.
Yet, when you look around the Internet, you'll find tens of thousands of bees, furiously doing their little dances. And I guess that's what I love about electronic self-publishing: it is empowering and immediate and vital, even if prone to narcissism, self-aggrandizement, and really bad spelling. Every bee gets to do their dance.
So, even though I was reluctant to do so, I started this blog last winter. I like to write, I like to take pictures, I like to make things, and I guess, on a gut level, I feel compelled to communicate to my fellow bees.
Worst case scenario: I get stung to death.