“A plain brown cake is good enough but an iced cake with Hundreds and Thousands over her snow is something beyond good enough. The gay little nothings, the Hundreds and Thousands, have transformed it. It is the same in life, even a life which we thought has been drab while we were living it; if you look back and pick out the little events nearly forgotten, you find, that each has touched you or teased you or did something funny which had helped to make life interesting, crunchy, sweet, delicious.”

I’m thinking a lot about how Emily Carr wrote her life. The brain loves to find patterns, but I can’t help but see in her journals and books, in the short sharp descriptions of moments, scenes, conversations, I can’t help but see the foreshadowing of blogging. She wrote the way she painted, quickly, in the moment, in layers, then she continued going over the same ground until she got it right. She was a constant editor, almost to her detriment. Emily was never really happy with the final product, even after it was published. She was never sure it was any good, not until someone told her so, someone she trusted.

Artists make a lot of art in our heads, in our notebooks, on scrap pieces of paper, and in text fields that sit in drafts instead of being published. But to me, blogging has always been about freedom, about putting something out there without worry. Nobody is reading this now. Maybe by the time they do, I’ll be a little bit better.