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Writing, Social Networking and Roots
18 years ago
I've got two more stories I want to write.
Two more stories and the rewriting on my novel.
And possibly more stuff. Probably more stuff. DEFINATELY more stuff.
Instead, I'm sitting here writing this for the moment because I need to do something and staring at a much smaller white screen is somewhat less intimidating than a big white screen.
It's strange, for me, to be taking all this so seriously. As far as this site goes, it's the closest thing I've had to a webpage in a very long time. I find myself checking it for tweaks and fixes, trying to set deadlines for stories to get them up. I'm probably getting a little too obsessive about it but it feels like an investment and not just like throwing a few things on the net and letting them drift off into the ether.
I've never had a LiveJournal or a MySpace page. Heck, the one time I signed up for a Furnation account I designed an entire look that I was thrilled with and promptly let it sit fallow. I haven't touched it in years but I keep all the kooky imagemaps and bits that I so meticulously designed in Paint Shop Pro (back when it was still mostly free) squirreled away in a folder on my hard drive.
Now I'm using Open Office and, when the visually artistic side of me hits, Gimp. I've got tools that blow my roughly coded HTML in Notepad and rather pathetic attempts at transparent GIFs out of the water. I've got a computer with five times the processing power of the system I hunkered over to do all that work.
It's the feeling that everything changed around you, and even you shifted gears to some degree, but you still wound up in the same place. Hell, I swore I'd never blog because I simply don't have enough to say on a given subject to hold anyone's interest...
...but when you've got to write, you've got to write. Even if it is just in a tiny box on a distant website. So here I am, effectively talking to myself in front of other people. It's a strange feeling but it's somehow intoxicating. Kinda halfway between acting and improv except you don't get to see the audience. It leaves me feeling self-important for doing it in the first place and yet, curious as to what the people watching will think. Sort of letting you crawl around in my head so I get a glimpse of what's in yours.
Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe it's just a website where people doodle and post and doodle and post. For me, though, I felt a need to post something. To try and contribute. Now that I'm doing it, I find it hard to stop. Because it's not quite the dump of data that my website was, nor is it just a place to go sifting through. There's people here, doing what they enjoy and sharing it. I guess kindergarten stuck with me and that's why I felt I had to share something back. I've just got some catching up to do before it's completely equitable.
Two more stories and the rewriting on my novel.
And possibly more stuff. Probably more stuff. DEFINATELY more stuff.
Instead, I'm sitting here writing this for the moment because I need to do something and staring at a much smaller white screen is somewhat less intimidating than a big white screen.
It's strange, for me, to be taking all this so seriously. As far as this site goes, it's the closest thing I've had to a webpage in a very long time. I find myself checking it for tweaks and fixes, trying to set deadlines for stories to get them up. I'm probably getting a little too obsessive about it but it feels like an investment and not just like throwing a few things on the net and letting them drift off into the ether.
I've never had a LiveJournal or a MySpace page. Heck, the one time I signed up for a Furnation account I designed an entire look that I was thrilled with and promptly let it sit fallow. I haven't touched it in years but I keep all the kooky imagemaps and bits that I so meticulously designed in Paint Shop Pro (back when it was still mostly free) squirreled away in a folder on my hard drive.
Now I'm using Open Office and, when the visually artistic side of me hits, Gimp. I've got tools that blow my roughly coded HTML in Notepad and rather pathetic attempts at transparent GIFs out of the water. I've got a computer with five times the processing power of the system I hunkered over to do all that work.
It's the feeling that everything changed around you, and even you shifted gears to some degree, but you still wound up in the same place. Hell, I swore I'd never blog because I simply don't have enough to say on a given subject to hold anyone's interest...
...but when you've got to write, you've got to write. Even if it is just in a tiny box on a distant website. So here I am, effectively talking to myself in front of other people. It's a strange feeling but it's somehow intoxicating. Kinda halfway between acting and improv except you don't get to see the audience. It leaves me feeling self-important for doing it in the first place and yet, curious as to what the people watching will think. Sort of letting you crawl around in my head so I get a glimpse of what's in yours.
Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe it's just a website where people doodle and post and doodle and post. For me, though, I felt a need to post something. To try and contribute. Now that I'm doing it, I find it hard to stop. Because it's not quite the dump of data that my website was, nor is it just a place to go sifting through. There's people here, doing what they enjoy and sharing it. I guess kindergarten stuck with me and that's why I felt I had to share something back. I've just got some catching up to do before it's completely equitable.
