I Give You Fair Warning
On the Deepening of Dreck
A year and and a half is an age on the Bloggosphere. Writing and reading on Medium still brings some pleasure, and even though I would like to continue soul blogging through the Winter, the 2016 season is over.
When the kachinas go back to the mountains, I move into my virtual winter quarters. I take the winters off because I don’t have as much time to goof around. Usually I read the New York Times and comment on Gawker. Last winter I kept writing on Medium and it messed me up. There are lots of other things I should be doing besides writing dreck here.
Most of my writing is avoidant behavior. I write when there is something else I should be doing. Right now I should be taking the trash to the dump, splitting wood, and walking the dog. Writing as escape is a bad habit, but as bad habits go, it is better than most of the other options.
This winter I thought l would take some time to write short stories. I wrote three stories for Made Up Words, which is now Subtext, and had a lot of fun writing them. Lisa Renee edited them and was wonderfully encouraging. She made it fun. Since Made Up Words became daCunha, I’ve spent a lot of time reading stories on their site and thinking about stories I might write. To date, I haven’t written anything for them. In an effort to get things rolling, I re-read a bunch of John Cheever stories and that was the kiss of death. It destroyed any desire to try to write a story of substance. I mean, really, who the fuck am I kidding? Delusions are fine if you keep them well hidden. It’s embarrassing to admit that I have daydreams of writing something that a celebrity reads and tells me how much they like it. Ugh. Did I just write that out loud?
Why Medium Has Been a Good Home So Far
I have found a good home on Medium because I feel like I belong here. I understand that I am not McSweeney’s worthy. That’s a little bit painful, but I don’t really care. I don’t want to work hard to get better. Most of my pleasure from writing on Medium comes from being able to barf things up and not look at them again. Nobody tells me what to write. Nobody says, “don’t publish that.” If what I publish sucks, who cares? The reads and recommends go in the toilet. It’s a little bit painful, but not as painful as trying hard and failing.
I have watched NoNoWriMo for years with guarded interest. What are these people doing? Is it absurd? I’m no joiner, so I was surprised how close I came to signing up after reading Shawn White’s posts on the topic and checking out the NaNoWriMo page on Medium.
the place on Medium to be supported in writing a novel in 30 days and what comes nextmedium.com
I really like many of the people on Medium. I am inspired and encouraged by their efforts.
I come from the commenter end of the Internet. I am at home on message boards. I don’t write fan fiction, but those fan fiction writers are my peers. I am a proud member of the creative underclass. I am nobody, and really pretty fine with that. I like my day job.
That said, I may have a book in me. I have always thought that I did, and so the idea of joining the NaNoWriMo was appealing.
The more I read, however, the more it didn’t seem to work for what I wanted to do. I have a book which I have started. I think I have to pass this particular creative kidney stone before I can start something else, and NaNoWriMo works best if it is a new project.
So I think I’m going to start publishing my prose comic on Medium in November and commit to hitting the NaNoWriMo word counts on my own. Once this year’s giant pile of dreck is out of the way, I will be free to start a new project next year.
Serialized Fiction on Medium
I’m not sure if serialized fiction works on blogging platforms. My suspicion is that it doesn’t. I have read a lot of Mrinal Bose’s Novel About Publishing a Novel. I read, and sometimes recommend or comment, but the truth is that when I miss installments I don’t go back and read them.
That might be because I don’t read novels. It’s true; I want to write a novel (maybe) but I don’t want to read one. Probably not even my own. Is that fucked up? If you found out that there was a painter who never went to galleries or museums would you hate them for it? What about a musician who didn’t listen to music? I don’t think such a person exists. There is no musician who doesn’t listen to music. Are there dancers who don’t like to watch others dance? Actors who don’t go to movies?
I think it takes some kind of creative baby-man to want to subject others to your expression without wanting to read theirs, which is why I belong here, in the back eddies of the Internets, hippo splattering dreck for my own solipsistic purposes.
This is the Fair Warning
My plan is to start putting up the long dreck in November. If anyone enjoys any part of it, that will be great. If it is ignored, that will be fine too. I think I have to do it regardless of the response, just to get it over with. That’s OK, isn’t it? We’re all just fucking around, aren’t we? You won’t hate me for making ugly, will you?