More of Less: Why This Six-Time Veteran Is Scared To Go To BlogHer

Are you going to BlogHer next week? It will be my sixth time (Simon's coming too; his fourth) and although in the past I've been one to step up and share my advice about how to manage the conference and why you shouldn't be nervous because there's really nothing to be scared of, really, this year it's a little bit different. This year I'm a little bit terrified.

Okay, not terrified, but tummy-jumbly and apprehensive and, for the first time, worried I might be in over my head.

I've faced BlogHer challenges before (there was the time I knew exactly three people, the time I took my baby, the time I had to haul fifty pounds of swag for hours at a time because it was a ninety-minute round-trip to get between the session area and the hotel), but this year's conference is the first one that's filled me with this special flavor of dread.

Here's the thing: Thanks to Twitter and some of the smaller blogger meet-ups I've attended in the past year, I know more online people than ever before, but the problem is I know them all LESS. Way back in the wayback, my blog community used to be a manageable community of individuals, all of whom read all of each other's personal blogs (and we each only had one blog back then, remember that?), and that meant when the annual conference came around it truly was a chance to hang out in person with friends who were actually already friends. I was invested in their lives and they in mine, and every wonderful thing a person can say about meeting blog friends in real life for the first time--that you don't have to break the ice because it's already broken; that you can skip over the small talk because you've already read each other's About pages not to mention intimate descriptions of things like pregnancy hemeroids and bad break-ups and that time I puked all over Potrero Hill--yes, all of the magic that is spending real, physical time with those friends is absolutely true and real.

And as the blog universe expands to include more people, and as individual bloggers expand to write for more sites, my love remains as limitless as before, and my ability to appreciate a thousand different lives is equally generous and flexible, but, oh, my time is not. My time is short, thin, fragile, a thing to be guarded, sometimes with a big stick and bared teeth.

Conferences used to be a place to meet a few new friends through existing friends, or even just through happening to sit down next to someone you end up clicking with. Those early conferences were also an opportunity to fall into conversation with extraordinary people without being intimidated by how extraordinary are because you'd never heard of them. (In 2008 I sat down next to Casey of Moosh in Indy and said, "Nice to meet you! And where are you from!" "Uh...Indiana?" she graciously replied. Yes. Right. Got it.)

So there's that: These days I feel like I don't have room to meet new people, that I should actively avoid introducing myself to strangers because I already have my community, and it's already way too big. Even a lot of the people I've known for years I don't know know anymore because I can't keep up with everything they're doing. (Hell, I can't even keep up with everything I'm doing.) And here's what it really comes down to for me: I really really really just don't want to say something stupid.

At the first CheeseburgHer party, I cornered Jenn and for some reason started explaining roller derby to her, in detail, so she would ustnderstand, so she would get it, all the while having no idea that she was IN AN ACTUAL ROLLER DERBY LEAUGE HERSELF. I had read Jenn's blog, I was a fan, and yet I'd kind of totally missed the part about her being a derby girl. When I figured this out days later, I commenced a cringe that has apparently lasted four whole years, because GAH, SO DUMB. She wrote about it on her website, and I hadn't read it. BlogfriendFAIL.

Of course, what's even dumber than that is the fact that I bothered feeling so dumb about it because--come closer, friends--here's a little truth: We aren't all reading each other's blogs. We can't. Even if you have an RSS reader, even if you sit at home all day and do nothing but read blogs, even if you bought a speed reading course from an infomercial, even if you're a magician or wizard or something, you simply cannot read everything everyone writes and retain it in any meaningful way. I know this, I do, and yet it still bothers me. I want to read it all. I want to know you.

Ever had that awkward moment where you're talking to someone and you gloss over a few details because you figure there's no need to rehash what you've written about on your blog, your blog that everyone you know reads regularly and in its entirety, of course, but then you realize the person you're conversing with has NO IDEA what you're talking about? And you both realize, "Shit. I/she put that on the blog and she/I didn't read it." That's...not my favorite. So, yeah, I wish I could read everything everyone writes not just because you're interesting and I'm interested but because I would like to avoid this awkwardness, please and thank you very much!

It used to be that a blogger's community was equally if not more accurately defined by her number of reciprocated connections. I read her blog, she reads mine, we both read this third person's, and she reads ours, etc. Now (and this has been true for several years), I suspect that a lot of the people with the biggest audiences are the ones reading the fewest blogs, not because they're all high and mighty and snobby and such but because they simply don't have time considering they're busy writing for a dozen sites and attending networking events every two weeks and, of course, don't forget they're also out there "living the content." It's not a bad thing--I don't begrude anyone her popularity in this free market; if people are reading what you're producing, write on!--but from my perspective, as someone who liked the give and take of running a personal website that belonged to a tighter network of other personal websites, rather than as someone who wrote to an audience that was largely anonymous (I see you in my stats, you anonymous lurkers! who are you?), it's a little sad. And it makes attending a conference of three thousand-plus bloggers a little nervewracking because even if I know a few hundred of them, it's likely I mostly only know of them. You know?

I don't think my audience is all that larger than it was four or five years ago, but it's certainly different. Although there are some old-timers still hanging around, it's not the same crew at all, and even the names I recognize in the comments aren't necessarily people I'd be able to pick out of a line-up. I'm trying to be better about visiting more blogs outside my regular five (seriously, FIVE) and to also be better about leaving comments, even if it's just something simple to say, "I was here." I try. But it's HARD. I don't have the time. I wish I did.

If you're going to BlogHer, let me know (so I can stay up late cram-reading all your blogs). (I'm the type of person who will Google someone's new boyfriend before meeting him at a party, just so I know what I'm dealing with.) (Planner? Or psychostalker?) And if you see me there and I'm acting weird, please know that it's not that I'm shy, it's that I can't always trust what will come out of my mouth so I sometimes feel best just keeping it closed. There's a reason I do my best work in writing. I'm a bumbler. To quote a line from Coupling, sometimes I just open my mouth and there's a bit more in there than I was expecting.

Let's be generous with ourselves and our stories. Let's not assume anyone knows anything about us just because we have blogs. Let's not be afraid to talk out of fear of saying something stupid (because, hey, it happens). Let's not be afraid to make new friends. I'll start:

Hi, I'm Leah (but not really), and I've been blogging for a crazy-long time. I live in the San Francisco Bay Area with my kind and talented husband, my humdinger of a two-year-old son, and cats who suffer being dressed up now and then for my amusement. I'm a book editor and writer, an amateur photographer, and a planner lacking follow-through. This is my sixth BlogHer conference, and I'm scared. But also really freakin' excited.