Widow's Walk

What do you say to a woman who has lost the love of her life? What do you say to a woman who is a widow at 39, with two young children to support? You say, "I'm sorry."

But what do you say to a woman who has lost the love of her life, is a widow at 39, and has two young children to support when she submits her blog for review on a site that consistently and with rapacious glee eviscerates hum-drum blogs with scathing commentary?

You say, "I'm sorry," and you dig in to the review even though all you want to do is give Sandi a big hug and then call your nearest and dearest and tell them you love them because life can be short and sharp.

When I saw that my blog to review this week was A Widow for One Year, I choked. Jesus, I said. This one is going to gut me. And I was right. I sat down and read this blog from start to finish. I'm not going to lie to protect Sandi's feelings -- I didn't read the entire thing because the writing was fantastic. It's not. It's raw and unvarnished and personal and sometimes inelegant. But the feeling in the writing, the story of what's happened to Sandi and her family, is, for me, impossible to turn away from. It's engrossing, and heartbreaking, and, unfortunately, more common than I knew.

This is an intensely personal blog that has far-reaching potential. The author has already been profiled in a local paper, and she's writing a book about her experiences. Sandi writes frequently and decently, and she comes across as forthright, ballsy, opinionated, and brave. And she's not afraid to get mad, to cry, to laugh. It's a blog where I care more about the author and her experiences than I do about grammar and engaging narrative and succinct phrasing.

But. Could it be better? Yes. And because she asked for it, here's my advice.

Get a new blog design. Stat. This one is boring, tired, and bland. You have important things to say. You'll be heard more clearly if you provide a little visual interest. Find something clean and engaging with some personality. I also think you really need a blog with some tabs for extra pages. All blogs need an "About" page, but yours especially could benefit. People should have the opportunity to read your story outright. Move those 25 items in the sidebar to that "About" page, too. There's no need for it in the sidebar; it's clutter. Also, it would be great to link a page with resources for pancreatic cancer research, support sites, etc.

What I really like is that you offer up these glimpses of your life with John and your life without John, there's holding on and moving on. These are meaningful, heartbreaking, instructive, and often inspiring. But there's some filler here, too. I hesitate to tell you to get rid of the filler because there's more to you than this grief, this experience of loss, and I like knowing that you, like me, hate the New Kids (maybe they should now be the Approaching Middle Age Losers Who've Peaked and Are Kidding Themselves). But beware of posting just to post.

As to your writing, it's solid if not always evocative or lyrical. But I feel like you have bigger things to worry about, so it didn't matter all that much to me, honestly. I know you can do better at crafting solid posts, but a part of me wonders if that's even the point. This is, after all, a release for you and a place where you can document and detail this year of widowhood (and hopefully further years). I know it's more therapeutic than artistic, at this point. If you're hoping to transcend that barrier, dust off that English degree and get a little more creative, a little more colorful, a little more polished. Right now, though, I understand that getting the thoughts out there is more important than getting them out there wrapped in pretty packaging.

For the design, you get the dreaded






For the writing, you get






For the content, which is meaningful, important, life-changing, gut-wrenching, brave, insightful, soul-baring, ballsy, compassionate, championing, nurturing, and universal, you get

Happy Scrappy Hero Pup

When I was in college, I worked at one of two video stores in town that rented porn. We didn't just rent porn: we had a great classics section, and I'm pretty sure we were the only store in town with copies of Evil Dead and Freaks. But porn was an obvious draw. I had a lecherous and insane boss with a predilection for 18-year-old girls and Native American jewelry, co-workers who could name the movie you were looking for after five words of description, and customers who loved to stand around and shoot the shit for an hour or so on a Tuesday night.

It is, to date, the best job I've ever had.

Now, there are quite a few porn stores in my little southern town, big triple Xs and dildos to go. But we used to be mavericks.

Which brings me to today's blog up for review: Well Hell Michelle. Cute name, right? Nice design, too. I really like the light blue accent, it's easy to read and well organized, and there's not a lot of clutter. And look! A Good Reads dohicky! Dorks of the world, unite! I'd like the archives to be rolled up, and I'm curious as to why her blogroll includes only KC bloggers, but overall: good job. (The design does fart out here, though. Scroll down.)

Now for the good stuff: porn.

Michelle used to work in a porn store, and that experience provides the bulk of at least the first half of this blog. And it is entertaining, to be sure. I love the idea of a sex toy toolbelt, and I can relate to having guy groupies. She embraces her dorkitude, and I'm jealous of her porn store tour. Also, Iowa is a dirty little tart. Who knew?

So, I feel like I have a lot in common with Michelle: the whole porn thing; the fact that we're dorks who like to include pretentious book gadgets on our blogs; I once thought I'd like to be the dildo lady on the side and do pleasure parties (she did Edible Ecstasy parties); we like many of the same movies ("Bite my pillow!"); and, in general, I'm pretty sure I'd like to drink with her and talk about Nina Hartley's oeuvre.

I really, really like Michelle. I kind of have a girl crush. BUT! Aside from the porn store stories, there's not a whole lot of meat here. The posts are succinct and to the point and bare bones, and that's good. But then again, I'm left a little hungry. You can't win with us -- you're either too wordy or not wordy enough.

In this case, though, I'm not sure it's the words that are lacking as much as the depth. I'm really curious about Michelle, and I want to know more. There's this dry humor and an enticing reserve (she is a librarian, after all) about Michelle that makes me want to draw up close and listen, but when I do, I want there to be some pay off. Right now, I've got my head cocked and my ears open, and I'm waiting for her to speak.

Even though I do really fucking love her, I'm giving it





because my love is conditional: give me more.

"I cried when I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet. And then I laughed REALLY hard."

I dig a funny broad. Gilda Radner, Carol Burnett, Amy Sedaris, Dorothy Parker, Jennifer Saunders. I don't for a second believe the hype that women aren't funny. Most of my best girl friends are funny as hell, and they got to be my best friends not by being giving and generous and kind but by cracking my shit up. And then being generous. With booze. And many of the blogs I read are written by funny broads. Hell, on a good day, I think even I'm funny. But then I would, wouldn't I?

That said, humor is, like beauty, subjective. Some people like Jackass. I think people who like Jackass are jackasses. It takes all kinds.
I'll admit, today's review was a bit of a struggle for me. I wanted very much to like Laurie Kendrick. I have a thing for brash Texans, and Laurie is most definitely that.

But today, I think the joke's on me.

First, this is a terrible blog design. It looks like something a mediocre linen supply company in Des Moines would use. There is no personality. None. It's like a communion wafer: bland and you need a good swig of wine to wash it down. The post space is way too narrow. I don't mind that there are no sidebars, but why the hell is it so narrow? It makes the links in the blogroll at the bottom of the site run to two lines, which doesn't do much to showcase them. And the banner says nothing. Well, it says, "grass," and not in a good, "let's roll a peach flavored blunt and scarf M&Ms" kind of way. But what in blue blazes does a dewy blade of grass have to do with this lady? Nothing. Not a damn thing.
There are flashes of humor, but some of the grammatical and spelling snafus are distracting. (Also, I'm disappointed she didn't mention "Grrr. Argh." Is that too new?) She's a humor writer, and some of it is funny (and appalling), but then some of it is just a rambly mess with jokes and forwardy email crap and unoriginal content.

Though she posts consistently and frequently, Laurie makes the same mistake many of our submitters do: her posts are way too long. Edit, people! Look, I know. I love my words, too, and I hate to get rid of any of them, bright, shining, glorious, smart, and achingly funny as they are. But I do. Because I care about my readers, I care that my point is made, I care that I've crafted something for public consumption, and even if it is a stinking turd, at least it's a concise and well-crafted turd. (Yeah, folks. I got up on my editorial high horse again. I can't help it. And it matters. Dammit.)

I think my favorite part of the blog is "A Word from Laurie Kendrick." And this depresses me because, frankly, I know Laurie can do better. I see the potential she's got, but I just don't think she's living up to it. Get a new blog design, stat. Something that has a little of your personality, a little more flavor, especially if you want this blog to be a springboard to publication. Write your posts, ramble all you want, get it all up there on the screen, and then go back with a practiced eye and get rid of all the fluff. And only post when you've got something to say, something original. Lay off the email jokes and forwards because we all get them in our inboxes from our relatives and friends who don't have anything to say to us anymore so they send us jokes to let us know we still matter, but not that much.

Today you get a measly





because I like you and I think you have potential. Don't give up. Just get better. And resubmit when you've revised your design and gotten a little tighter. And I don't mean doing your kegels, although that's always a good idea.

(Also, you're actually being published freelance and I'm not, so I'm beginning to doubt my expertise, here. Or maybe you're not giving us the goods, maybe you're saving that for your paying clients, and if so, for shame. Give as good on your blog as you would on the printed page.)

"I make you laugh, I'm here to fuckin' amuse you?"

There were these guys I used to hang out with in high school and college. They were rough and rowdy and hilarious and completely inappropriate. These boys were gentle giants with foul mouths and no sense of style. They held keg parties in fields, played practical jokes constantly, made bongs out of two liter soda bottles, drank truly terrible beer by the truckloads, and lit their farts on fire.

And I loved them.

Today's blog reminds me of those boys of my youth. Bagwine Ruminations is a big, goofy, dirty kid with terrible design sense and a completely inappropriate sense of humor. And, like those guys I mention above, I just can't help but like him.

The blog is ugly. There's this huge honking banner at the top that I can barely read. There are two sidebars full of clutter and trash. He should most definitely switch to two columns and get rid of the excess mess. The bolded maroon (and black, and blue, and green) text makes my teeth itch, and I hate the ads. Include an "about page" and add years to your archives (No, I can't just count back. Sorry.). You might consider adding a category drop down, too.

Here is proof that I can be loosey-goosey (kinda) when it comes to grammar, spelling, and punctuation, because Matt-Man is a frequent mistake-maker but I still like his writing. How can I not like a guy who mentions the dance genius of Kevin Bacon (Although I think he actually had a stand-in for that movie, didn't he? Never mind. I like to suspend my disbelief about Ren.)? He's completely inappropriate. I'm embarrassed that I laughed. A lot. Like, a lot. There might be a pee stain.

I like Matt. He's goofy, he's not afraid to make fun of himself, he talks about sex a lot, he loves his kid, he drinks, he swears, he doesn't take life too seriously, and I like his politics. I'd sit down and have a beer or twelve with him and in a matter of minutes suffer the agony of perma-grin. I'm pretty sure I'd say things like, "Stop! Stop, dammit! Oh, God. My cheeks hurt from laaauuughing! Fuck... I gotta go pee."

So, it's a pretty bad blog design, and the writing isn't terribly accomplished, but goddammit he makes me laugh, and I needed that very, very much today.

I choose Vodka. And Chaka Khan.

Ten years ago I was 23 and just finishing up college. I was part of a group of women at that time who were influenced by a change in media representations of women that would resonate for years. Bridget Jones's Diary was released in 1996, followed swiftly by Sex and the City in 1998, ushering in a decade of martinis and Manolos and mad women. Chick lit exploded, and I was an eager participant in that cultural shift.

And now, 10 years later, it all feels a little tired to me. I've been there and done that. I've had my many one night stands and mortifying hangovers and friends with benefits and living for the next party. Those of us who felt empowered by "fucking like men" and being single are now, most likely, fucking husbands or fiances or long-term partners. Those singletons have generally become smug marrieds.

So for me, reading today's blog was a bit of a blast from the past. The Compulsive Confessor feels familiar because I've read it before. There are now literally hundreds (thousands?) of girl-about-town wine swillers writing about their experiences with sex and the city or the suburb. They're all pretty and eager and sassy and angst-ridden. And I, jaded 33-year-old (eyes rolling), want to pat them on their glossy heads and tell them to be original.

But eM actually is kind of original. Come to find out, she's a bit of a maverick. Because she's not writing about her "exploits" (god, how I loathe that word) in New York or Chicago or even Atlanta. She's writing from Delhi and Bombay, where there are strict obscenity laws and women can be punished for behavior like hers. And? She's kind of famous and pretty popular (or reviled).

To the basics: The template is ok. Three columns aren't necessary, but it's not hurting my eyes terribly. I like the banner, and I don't mind all the pink because I'm a girl. Roll up the archives and the categories (I'm like a broken record on this point) and move the stat stuff to the bottom of one of the sidebars. And add an "about" page.

Now, on to the writing. Infamous or not, eM is a professional entertainment journalist. Which honestly? Kind of surprises me. Ok, the writing is fine. At times pretty amusing. But for a professional writer there are an awful lot of grammatical snafus. Considering the trauma we all experienced with our spate of Indian emo bloggers who submitted for review, her leaving off periods and using some internet-speak and writing huge blocks of paragraphs is nothing. But come on. You do this for a living? And you're writing a book? Start acting like it on your blog. We say it again and again. EDIT. Boil it down to the necessary bits, excise extraneous words and ramblings. Have a point and stick to it. Or at the very least be concise.

eM has been keeping this blog for a good while, which is admirable. And as much as I'm probably not her target audience (though there are some relatable bits), she is, at the very least, honest. Her blog is exactly what it sets out to be: "twenty-something, single, female, writer, with large groups of friends and who goes out for drinks pretty regularly. That's my life and that's what I write about." This is the truth.

As a reader, I could use more meat, more substance, more depth, and more maturity. The writing is, for the most part, surface and superficial. But then she doesn't claim to be otherwise. Even though it's not for me, whatever she's doing is garnering her attention, accolades, and some arrows. And whatever I think of her writing abilities, I admire her for being brash and ballsy in a world that typically frowns on her behavior. It is obvious that she loves to write, but whether that love stems from confession or crafting remains to be seen. Right now I'm betting on confession.

I'm a bit torn on the rating for this one. I give it two stars because she blogs consistently and frequently, the template didn't make me want to stick needles in my eyes, the writing is fine, she amuses me, it made me all nostalgic, and she's kind of ballsy.






But I give it a flaming finger, too, because someone who writes professionally and is about to have a book published should care more about craft, should put more effort into the words she shares with the blogging community. Your blog got you recognized. Don't shit on that recognition and opportunity by shortchanging your blog with meandering posts with overlong paragraphs and lazy editing. You can do better, and you should. Pay attention to your words, be present in your writing, consider your audience, and give them something that you've polished up and are proud of. Even the most superficial twaddle can be worthwhile if the writer is an artisan.

Is motherhood contagious?

These days it seems all I hear about are bumps and bjorns and birthing plans. I’m 33, and almost every goddamn one of my friends has children (or, if they don’t, they’re about to), barring my lesbian friend who I will forever hold up as my “See? I’m not the only one without babyhood on the brain” person. If Heather ever decides she’s got to reproduce, I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably get knocked up immediately because even though I don’t want kids, I can’t stand to be left in the dust. Any children of mine will be horribly damaged from the get-go, as they will have been conceived out of pure competitiveness. I can see it now. “Mom, was I a mistake?” “No, darling. You were a one-up. It was either you or a summer house, and we couldn’t get a loan.”

It’s no secret that I don’t get mommy blogs. I can’t relate. My babies are the four-footed variety, and when they piss me off I can swat them on the nose and put them in time-out. They needn’t be educated beyond knowing not to piss or shit in the house, when we vacation they can be boarded, and I don’t have to worry about the stigma of teenage pregnancy because they’re all fixed.

So, when I saw that my blog to review today is, yes, another mommy blog, I swore vehemently and sighed wretchedly. It’s not that I hate mommies. I don’t. Really. I have one, and I love her. I read lots of blogs by mothers. Some of my best friends are mothers. It’s just... ugh. I feel a bit like when we had all those emo Indian kid blogs to review. Like it’s in a completely different language and we have nothing in common and any review I might attempt will be woefully one-sided and ignorant.

But I shook it off and plunged in, ready to put aside my prejudices and preconceived notions and see what In the Trenches of Mommyhood (See? She puts it all out there in the title -- it’s about mommyhood!) had in store.

And you know what? I should do that more often.

Because this is a fine blog. The design is three-column, which seems unnecessary. It might help to do away with the third column and get more space for the writing. The banner is huge, and I hate that. There’s no reason for us to have to scroll so far to get to the content, and the picture of the lady with a lamp shade over her head doesn’t add enough to the design to warrant that much space. Sarah has been blogging for a while (and consistently!), so her archives do go on a bit; I suggest rolling them up. And consider some extra pages linked at the top -- an about page, a page for your bling (and holy lord, that’s a lot of bling) to shorten the sidebars, etc.

Overall, it is, indeed, a mommy blog. There’s very little writing here that branches out from family life, parenting, and her kids. But, strangely, I like it. For one, the writing is good. She embraces all the rules of grammar and style, including keeping her posts succinct and cleanly formatted. She talks about poop and wieners a lot, which goes a long way toward keeping my interest. Apparently I can’t look away from genitalia or effluvia. She’s human, thank the lord, and not a mommybot. Sarah seems generally happy and well-adjusted, which is refreshing but also really annoying and jealousy-inducing. I’ll admit there are parts of this blog about which I couldn’t care less. But at the very least those parts are well-written and amusing.

As Love Bites would say, I’d drink with her. And I’d feel a little like I had to watch my mouth, for some reason. Also, over our glasses of wine, I'd want to know more about her and less about her kids. Her kids are cute and all, but I'm more interested in their mom. This is, as she clearly states, her version of a "baby book." Problem is, baby books are for the parents, grandparents, and the kids themselves. Outsiders rarely see them, nor do they usually care to. There's good stuff here, so I see why she's putting it out there, but the blog feels a little... trapped. It's not just a baby book, and it's not just a mommy blog. I believe it started out as a baby book, but as the kids have grown, as she's grown, it's evolved. And I suggest updating the design and focus to embrace that.

Pulling up the cushions

Ever get the feeling you're standing in a room full of people who share some kind of inside joke and you're the only one not in on it? Or, you're the only sober one -- thanks to some strange twist of designated driver fate, perhaps -- at a party where everyone is smoking some seriously great shit and you're entirely left out?

After spending a considerable amount of time sitting on Bond's Big Leather Couch, I still haven't a clue what's going on.

Listen, I take this stuff seriously. I spend time investigating the blogs I review, I click around, I take notes, for fuck's sake. I try to bring you sassy commentary and helpful insight. But this time? I'm stumped. It's obvious the guy's got readers, but I'm at a loss as to why.

The design, quite frankly, is a train wreck. Red text on a bright (glaring!) blue background for the sidebars, and the posts have various words in bold and different colors and sizes and it just makes me want to gauge my eyes out with a paperclip. It looks like there's been a snafu with Blogger because there seems to be some double postage going on. And the posts themselves? Interminable. And chock-a-block full of joke-y pictures the likes of which my grandmother sends me from version 1.2 of AOL. If I'm not mistaken, he uses the royal "we," which is just... I can't even... Please? Don't do that.

There's way too much stuff going on here, too. The sidebars are far too long, and Jesus Lord there are like eleventy-five-hundred badges and doohickeys and ribbons and links and save the freakin' malarial children in Africa (Look, I'm not insensitive. I care about suffering children in Africa. But I think this guy's plea for help would be more effective if it were at all possible to look at his nightmare of a page!). Roll that crap up, put your badges on a separate page if they mean that much to you, and give the rest of us a break.

Above all, I have no idea who this guy is. I don't mean his name and rank, I mean who he is, why I should care, what's the purpose of the blog, and why in blazes I'd want to read a single thing he says. An "About" page might help narrow it down and give readers a clue. From my bewildered clicking and reading, it seems to me this blog has lots to do with American Idol (couldn't care less), baseball (hate it), music retrospectives (fine) and random snippets of pop culture that I read about from other (less cluttered, more witty) sources.

Look, I don't want to hate on this. He's an older guy with a new fangled technology, and he's building a community and doing something he obviously enjoys. And it's clear others enjoy his perspective, too. They get it; I don't. So, don't stop. But for the love of cascading style sheets, find a new template, get some focus, ditch the acres and acres of corny pictures, streamline this steaming pile, and stop using your blog as a repository for internet flotsam and jetsam. There may be roses among the thorns here, but they're too everloving hard to get to.

You get a "meh" for the content and a whole slew of flaming fingers for your template.