Before I quit my job and became an unemployed writer of unpublished texts, I used to work as associate editor to the Journal of Levantine Studies. As one of the founding members of the journal and having dedicated five years for its ongoing excellence, separating from my baby wasn’t as easy as slapping a resignation letter onto my boss’ desk. I mean that metaphorically; my ode of separation was sent via email. Since then, I continued to help the new team, answering questions on dealing with annoying authors or dilemmas regarding capitalization rules in Arabic transliterations. All simple and straightforward. The most recent question the editor-in-chief asked, however, caught me off guard. She explained that they were preparing to launch a new blog for the journal’s website and needed input. “As a blogger yourself, what do you think Nathalie?” she wrote in an email. Me? Blogger? Whaaat? If anything, I am the imitation blogger. A woman who writes stuff online without a clue. A blogger-impostor in disguise. “I don’t know anything about blogging!” I said to the screen. Thankfully no human lives behind …