I write for me…

Back in March I read an article by Robert McCrum in the Observer titled, “Who are you writing for?” The piece considered many possible audiences and included a wonderful answer from Robert Louis Stevenson penned in his in “Travels With a Donkey.” Mr. Stevenson wrote, “Every book is, in an intimate sense, a circular letter to the friends of him who writes it. They alone take his meaning; they find private messages, assurances of love, and expressions of gratitude, dropped at every corner. The public is but a generous patron who defrays the postage.”

I have a few family and friends that read this space. Some occassionally take the time to comment on the content. Family and friends. I’m glad they visit and I know they understand the “private messages, assurances of love, and expressions of gratitude.” Today I found out my audience is a little broader than I previously knew. However, this little segment seemed to express bemusement and ridicule at the contents herein. That stung a little, but I guess criticism is invited when expressing in a public forum. I enjoy writing and this place is an environment to practice and improve. This is my reality… What’s yours?