Steve the WildeBeat guy posted a comment way back when I started this blog, noting how annoying it is when bloggers don’t share their names or other biographical details.

I’m not so much annoyed as bemused by the notion that people would go to all the trouble of starting a blog and not attaching their name to it. I mean, unless you’re the next Samuel Clemens, you’re not apt to be the next Mark Twain. So what’s with the nom de blog? (Exceptions granted to people living in police states, of course, and those writing on embarrassing subjects like membership in the Republican Party.)

In my line of work, people who write for a living insist on a byline. It bolsters their their fragile, writerly egos and gets them into social settings far above their stations in life. You might think, well, I’m not one of those bottom-feeding, scum-of-the-earth journalists so I don’t need me no stinking byline.


Well, think about this: If you don’t take credit for your work, how will future generations know anything about your life? People without bylines and who don’t happen to be named in publications (pretty much everybody; google all your friends and see how many of them show up) will have their names published four times in life: in a birth announcment, in a wedding notice, in an obituary, and on their tombstones.

If you’re a bloggger, you can leave a lot more evidence of your earthly existence. Your work can find it way into google’s database and live there (presumably) as long as humans continue to etch electrical circuits into chips of silicon. Thing is, this only works if your name is attached to your posts.

The average non-blogger thinks we all need to get a life, but how many of them have built something from nothing that’s available to a global audience for generations to come? Blogging is worth doing well, but what’s the point if nobody knows you did it?