"the blog thing" to my father. My father loves reading but he is not happy writing. Part of this has to do with the fact that he finds the physical act of writing a chore. His writing is close to illegible. I do not know who taught him to write but they did not do a good job. He grips his writing instrument as if it is about to run from him and laboriously forms the letters. He still writes a flat topped "8" - and one of my nephews once asked what it was.
My father's method of typing is the Columbus method - discover and land. That does not hasten the process of putting words on paper.
Then there are the words themselves. He uses too many. He will write something out and show me. I will say, "Why didn't you just say...?" Sometimes he will say, "I want to write to...about...." I will stand there and dictate it.
My father has a degree in English. He has an excellent vocabulary. He still reads widely and on all manner of subjects - after all he will be 'only 87' in a couple of weeks. That is much too young to stop learning. It is just the act of writing that seems to bother him.
I think it may be a generational thing. People wrote more in the past. He thinks things should be long. The idea of writing a diary or a blog is just not his "thing". I tell him it does not matter. He does not need to do it. He still wants to know why I want to do it. I tell him it is good discipline. If, as sometimes, I do not get anything else worthwhile written then I will have written something. I will not be putting in fancy photographs. I have still not found out how to put in the little links you can just double click on and get to the right address on the internet. I do not know how to turn the screen blue and the writing red. I sometimes wonder what to say but I will say something.
It does not matter if nobody reads it - but the comments encourage me to continue. I am not sure I want to turn the writing red. It does not matter. It does not matter. I am making myself use words. It's the 'blog thing' and it is the best explanation I have.