Initial reactions: or 'How to be a bad writer and get away with it'.

In continued efforts to waste your time with contentless content, I'd like to remark on the pleasantly positive response I have received thus far for this blog. Oh, how very far a little shameless plugging can get you!
     Sincerely, I would like to thank those who wasted took the time to read my posts and comment on them. You're very kind. This blog remains relatively new and I wish I could promise you a certain type of content so that you could decide for yourselves whether you would like to continue stroking my ego reading. As it stands, I have a lot of ideas, all wildly different, so I guess we'll be finding our feet as we go. I promise I will try to make this more than just a place for rants concerning the key dates of our calendar year, but experience should have taught you by now not to listen to any promises I make.
     To respond to one reader in particular who remarked that they could hear my voice in these posts, I am very sorry. That news is troubling on two accounts. 1) This means that my writing is as hideously ineloquent as my usual spoken diatripe¹. 2) It means that those accustomed to my special brand of monotonous drooling will have to put up with hearing it more often than they normally would. For this I can only apologise. If it helps, we can all try to pretend that my written voice is something far more appealing: a smooth, golden legato, like the trickling of warm treacle, underscored by a smoky husk, like the cracking of wood in a dying camp fire. That or you can imagine that this blog is penned by Morgan Freeman². It's up to you.
     If you haven't yet been made aware (and I don't blame you; I appear to have made an art of defying clarity) I am a writer, and one of the things I would like to attempt is a series sharing my thoughts on the practice, the craft, and the business of writing. You can expect the first of these posts soon.
     I will preface, however, with the candid acknowledgement that I'm not actually that good at writing, and yet, somehow, I've managed to convince a lot of people that I am. (Top Score! The disguise is working!) The truth is that I am as susceptible to typographical errors and blatantly erroneous comments as everyone else. I spend a lot of time writing and I'm a darn sight better at it than I was three years ago, or even three weeks ago; but, as much as I strive always to improve, I am not perfect, and I am thankfully not foolish enough to claim so.
     There's a certain charm in knowing that the first comment ever made to this blog was to point out a frankly glaring typo. A lesser me would be annoyed that people aren't reading for the content and being nit-picky. The better me recognises that at least that means people are reading; and, if I strive to create the best content I can - which I do - I must embrace criticism and correction - which I do.
     The key to being a good writer, I find, is to surround yourself with good people who are aware and honest and who are more than happy to point out how wrong you are whenever possible. I am delighted to have my little crack team of typo-finding crack typo monkeys, and I hope they will continue to help me make my content as good as it can be, so that I can continue taking all of the credit. Thanks guys.
     The particularly observant of you (or those foolish enough to have read it more than once) may have noticed that my previous post has already undergone a few edits for clarity. I would like to bridge these two posts by adding one additional comment, stating that, as far as I'm concerned, the value of a thing lies in how we create it and what we do with it. Nothing of value is an end in itself, whether that thing be romantic love, or money, or a shamelessly self-referential blog post. We have an obligation only to what we create, given the time we have, the resources available to us, and the people with whom we are creating.
     With that said, I intend to keep working at what I write here, as I will with everything else, until someone starts paying me to do something better I can be happy that what I produce is at the very least not terrible. That, for now, seems like a pretty good goal.

tl;dr:
1. Write poorly.
2. Get friends to fix it.
3. ????
4. Profit!

¹ That typo was intentional. Calm down, Monkeys.
² I stole this suggestion from a friend. I am entirely without shame.