We sometimes blog not because we want to say something, but because we have to – there is anger or fear or joy or sorrow in us that wants to come out. For many of us blogging has become the most accessible medium for sharing with the world not only our thoughts and passions, but also personal experiences that are often troubling or embarrassing. Many a time, I have come upon blogs that are painful diaries of sorrow, misfortune, or abuse, often hidden behind smiling Gravatars or homepages painted in bright colors. And I felt compassion, as one often does, and also a quiet admiration, that people can share these things with strangers.
We know them for their books, which have offered us glimpses into their lives, veiled it is true behind the fine fabrics of their fiction. And we know them through their biographies, too. But sometimes a photograph is worth indeed a thousand words… From Tolstoy to Hemigway, the lives of wonderful writers have been captured in memorable photographs…
Tap on any image to enlarge!
Sometimes I wonder, aren’t there enough writers out there? Aren’t there more stories, articles, blog posts, and books than we can ever read in ten lifetimes? Don’t we have all those great works handed down to us by our gramps and a great deal of enjoyable new books to fill our reading time? What’s the point of trying to write anything new? What’s the point of typing our hours away if it’s not for work or for school or at least for pay? Just to amuse ourselves? Just to nurture our vanity? Just to call ourselves writers?