“I think I’m going to start a new blog.”

“About what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe my theoretic postulations on how to answer the billion dollar question of the best way to monetize the internet.”

(At this moment, there was a pause. An intense stare from the person I had just told this to. A whirring of gears and wheels inside their head. The air was momentarily tinged with the faintest scent of “how do I tactfully explain…”, and I could swear I saw wisps of smoke coming out of their ears. And then…)

“You know that a lot of people out there are working really hard to answer this exact question as we speak.”


“So… if you’re writing about something, maybe something you don’t know a lot about, and coming up with answers they’ve already decided don’t work, or saying things that seem complex to you but may be simple, even banal to them, they may end up laughing at you or worse… actually saying something.”


“I’m just saying. You may very well get eaten alive.”

I’ve had several conversations like this lately. And I’ve always been told by everyone I know to write what I know. But what if you write what you don’t know? I’m not saying I don’t know anything about the subject at hand; I’m just saying that I’m not exactly entwined in the ongoing conversation (yet.) But like I told a good friend earlier this evening, sometimes a lack of experience is a perfect foundation.

And yes, the technorazzi may even end up eating my brains as an amuse bouche alongside their happy hour martinis if they actually ever find my small wonder over here on Word Press. But you know what I say to that?

Bring. It. On.