"Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today.

This story is hilarious.

I've blatantly stolen the title of this post from my friend Rob, who I reference below ...

Fellow beer blogger and kindred spirit, Rob, recently posed the question that has been irksome to me for some time as I contemplate my own motivations for putting pen to paper (or finger to key, as it were) to write about various and sundry topics related to one of my great passions – beer. I don’t think about it every time I write something, mind you, but I find myself contemplating my motives and the desires that drive them with alarming frequency as of late. Rob’s own introspection has simply given me the nudge I needed to finally write about why I write about what I write about. Got that?

Rob asks, “what's your inspiration to write about beer, and how do you feel your contribution to beer writing fits within the greater whole?”

For me, the inspiration is the easy part, although easy doesn’t always mean simple. At a very base level, I write about beer because I am passionate about beer. In other words, I do it “for the love of the game” more than any other reason. This, to me, is an important qualification and one that has been brought into sharper focus recently over on Stan Hieronymus’ blog ad nauseam. That discussion has really caused me to wonder whether I would consider myself or others would consider me a ‘beer writer’ at all – perhaps I am just someone who writes about beer instead. This seems to be something more than a mere quibble over semantics if the majority of commentators (comprised of mostly beer writers or writers about beer from what I can tell) on Stan’s blog are to be believed.

What, I muse, makes one a ‘beer writer’ anyway? Does one have to have had a published piece in a certain periodical, trade magazine or newspaper? How about a journalism degree? Does one have to write as a full-time occupation? If these are the qualifications, I am certainly not a beer writer and the chances that I’ll become a member of that elite society are slim to none at this point. If, however, a beer writer is someone who writes from their experiences and shares what they know about beer from their unique frame of reference, then I guess I qualify about as well as any could. Granted, this descriptor doesn’t speak to my depth of knowledge or lack thereof, but does the former really do that either? I don’t think for a minute I can simply assert that “I am not published, but I am passionate!” and expect that to be enough to get me by, but I’ve read some articles from writers who met the prior qualifications in spades but demonstrated clearly that they knew precious little about beer. This seems to be the case particularly with newspaper writers and reporters.

New media has thoroughly challenged the elevated status that traditional print media has enjoyed for so many years and, by and large, this is a good thing. I live it every day. My “real job” is in the New Media segment of a large traditional media company. I have the unique distinction of being both loved and hated, often by the same people at the same time. On the one hand, I represent new opportunities and a chance to extend the reach and immediacy of the journalistic arm of the company. On the other hand, I represent a complete disruption of the status quo and a company-wide “climate change.” This is seldom, if ever, well received or promptly implemented. The dead tree-edition staffers tend to look at me with a suspicious eye. In a similar fashion, I often wonder if there might be an analogous unease among some of the more established beer writers toward these myriad upstarts (that would be me and those like me) who are blogging all over the web about everything under the sun that is beer-related. After all, we get online, get a free Blogger account and all of a sudden we have essentially the same access to the same audience that the established writers do (maybe more if we’re particularly adept at SEO)! If I were on the other side of this I can’t say that I wouldn’t be a little wary and a little territorial.

There is a sense in which you wanna say that a beer writer ought to “earn his/her place” somehow. You ought not be able to just sit in your living room in your underwear, start up a blog and within minutes … voila! …a beer writer is born. Let’s face it, beer blogs are a dime a dozen these days and some of ‘em aren’t worth a dime. I don’t think mine is one of those, or at least I hope it’s not. I’ve had a lot of feedback in the nearly three years I’ve been doing this gig, and most of it has been very positive so far. I see this as a pretty reliable indicator that at least those who read my blog regularly get something useful or entertaining out of it. It’s growing too, so I take that to be a good sign. On the other hand, I’ve also been told that I basically don’t know what I’m talking about so there you go. I don’t feel I owe anyone an explanation for my writing, per se, but I do feel a growing need for some means of establishing credibility. This is what the discussion on Stan’s blog is really all about … the ethics of it all. I’m confident in my knowledge of beery things and in my ability to string a decent thought together but this doesn’t assure that same confidence will find its way into the reader’s mind. I can have the purest of motivations for writing about beer, but I could still suck at doing it.

At the end of the day, it’s really not up to me whether I suck at it or not I have concluded. That assessment rests squarely with my readers. As I already said, I write about beer primarily because I love beer and the craft beer culture. I don’t get paid to do it and I very rarely get any free stuff, so I can’t be accused of being a “hack” as another commentator on Stan’s blog put it - referring to those who might write with the purpose of getting free beer, trips and so forth. If, then, there are ancillary reasons for my beer writing propensities, I’d have to say they are found simply in meeting and networking with others who share my passion, learning from the people I talk to, virtually or otherwise and as a pure creative outlet. I have had a blast with the creation of The Aleuminati, for example, and I’ve gotten to know some terrific, and terrifically talented, people as a result. Not to sound too cheesy about it, but this is both motivation and reward enough for me right there. The fact that I get to play around with designing logos and thinking up new content is just icing on that cake.

I’m no beer expert. There are men who have forgotten more about beer than I’ll even know, but the one thing no one can take a way from me is my passion. Passion, and a willingness to persist in what you love, can take you pretty much anywhere you wanna go. I know that sounds like a Hallmark card, but it’s really true. I look at guys like Sam Calagione or Tom Schlafly (they come to mind because they are both “beer heroes” of mine, but also because I’ve recently read both their respective books) and I see men who started small, like me. The common denominator in their continued success, as I see it, is predominantly passion and persistence. I may not be able to bring a resume of published articles or a journalism degree to the table, but I’ve got the passion and the persistence.

In other words, I’m just stubborn enough to keep writing simply because I enjoy it.

Would it be nice to be in a position to be paid for doing what I love to do anyway? Of course, that’s the elusive position everyone strives for, isn’t it? Would it be cool to be considered one of those industry people whose endorsement and/or attendance at the most important beer-related events are always sought after? You bet.

I’m not that guy, though, and I’m okay with that. The way I see it, if I keep doing what I’m doing, and people continue to enjoy it, maybe one day I will be one of those guys. I like to think this is my way of attempting to pay my dues and earn my keep. At the very least, maybe the beer writing establishment will let me in their fraternity simply because they finally conclude I’m not going to go away.

To address, in brief, the second part of Rob’s question, I still struggle with where my writing fits within the greater whole. In a sense, I often feel like a tiny blip on the beer radar, coming from the Bermuda Triangle of beer in Southern Illinois, that shows up momentarily only to disappear again into the blogging oblivion. I don’t like feeling like a blip. In another sense, I feel like I’ve got a genuinely unique perspective to share and my “audience” is continually growing. My blip is getting bigger. I don’t know where it will take me and I’m frankly not too concerned with the destination. I’m having a blast on the journey and if I continue to write, which I plan to do, then whatever comes of it all will be apparent in due time. I make no bones about the fact that I’d love to end up in the craft beer industry in some capacity, full-time, but I’m not going to force it and I’m not going to pretend that Beerphilosopher.com or The Aleuminati thing will be the vehicle that gets me there. They’re both great fun and if they end up being something more, at some point, then maybe I’ll be ready to consider myself something other than a guy who ‘writes about beer.’

So, did Santa bring everyone what they wanted for Christmas this year?

I had requested 12 round-trip tickets to Belgium, along with ample beer money for my family and closest friends, but this altruistic request of mine went unheeded by the bearded man in the red suit … again.

Go figure. I’m beginning to think that Santa isn’t real, or at least he’s not listening to me.

Other than that minor disappointment, I had a terrific Christmas. This was technically my son Owen’s second Christmas, but he was only about 5 months old last Christmas and most of the magic of the season was lost on him at that age. Not so this year! He was all about it. Besides his favorite morning ritual of flipping the switch on the wall to turn the Christmas tree lights on as soon as he woke up every morning leading up to Christmas Day, he also found great fulfillment in finding creative uses for the bows he removed from the gifts under the tree - mostly he would stick them on his head and proclaim, “hat!,” but occasionally they would find their way across the house and end up in a random corner or under the bed.