Mom: When I was your age, I kept a diary.
Daughter: What's a diary?
Mom: A little book I wrote in every day.
Daughter: What did you write?
Mom: Oh, anything really. What I did that day, how I felt, crazy things I saw.
Daughter: You mean like a blog?
Mom: Yes, kind of a like a blog. Except I wrote it on paper and no one else was allowed to see it.
Daughter: Then why did you write it?
Mom: For me. Just my little secret place to write things.
Daughter: Yeah but why keep a blog if it's going to be a secret?
Mom: Well, I suppose it was...I mean, I guess I just liked writing down my thoughts.
Daughter: But no one else could read them! That's just talking to yourself.
Mom: Hmmmm. Maybe you'd like to keep a diary?
Daughter: Mooooommmmmmm!
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3 comments:
so you can imagine how young i felt when i told you guys about my blog! *snickering*
Fucking kids today.
What I found fascinating was that it would never occur to the daughter to write something absolutely private. I wonder what kind of inner life she has. I also wonder what kind of writers we're raising today. If they grow up writing all over the place but never in private, what kind of fiction will they produce? I imagine we'll see a lot more 'my life thinly disguised as a story' kind of stuff, but that might just be the curmudgeon in me.
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