(or at least ‘self-centred writing’)
I’ve always written this blog primarily for myself; while talking to some of you folks has been one of the awesome (if unintended) consequences of keeping this blog, I don’t really think I’m good enough at writing to have the entertainment of others be the main purpose of my writing. Also, there are times I’ll just sit for an hour and read old posts of my own, rather than read other people’s posts, not out of narcissism or an attempt to boost views on an otherwise slow day, but simply because I really rather like my style of writing and, surprisingly, the opinions I write about don’t piss me off to the extent that I can’t stomach more than five posts’ worth in a single sitting – I’m basically trying to be the blogger I want to read, so sorry if that makes me a selfish git.
And I’ve noticed this over the last few days of writing my Twelve Days Of Christmas stories over on my writing blog (which, by the way, is painfully difficult, to create an entire world, even if it’s a small one, with its own lore, boundaries and characters, introduce events and resolve them all within 5,000 words and a single day of writing – I’d encourage giving it a go for the Hell of it), that I’m writing things I think I would like to read, and basically letting viewers and an audience sort themselves out. So far I’ve written a crime story in which all the characters are birds because I thought it was a cool idea, an apocalypse story because I still have a vain hope of writing my apocalypse novel someday, some sports with gay people thrown in because I like discussing sexuality and I like sports, and today’s post is billed as a ‘satire’, but really it’s just a reworking of Tristram Shandy with some YuGiOh GX Abridged references chucked in.
It always surprises me, therefore, that people – like you, for instance – actually care about what I’m writing, because I feel like I’ve basically stumbled onto my eleven thousand-odd views over the last year and a bit just by writing my ideas down in a vaguely public place, rather than letting them fester in the back of my mind for eons, instead of making a conscious effort to reach out to potential readers and ‘promote posts’ like Facebook and WordPress keep telling me to do, beyond an automatic link to my Facebook wall that I think all my friends are so used to seeing every day it’s become part of the furniture of the site, like the little world icon for Notifications, or the big ‘Facebook’ text at the top of the site.
So cheers for indulging my ego with this whole blog thing*, and lets hope my half-literate stream of consciousness continues to interest people for a while to come; otherwise I’ll have to start putting planning and research into these posts, which is a rather scary proposition.
*NB: In editing I realised this sounded sarcastic, but I’ve just had a nap and have four hours to finish the last four thousand words of today’s Twelve Stories piece, so don’t have the brainpower or time to rework it into a construction where the meaning is retained, but the sarcasm ditched; so I threw this Pratchettian footnote in to clarify that. Also, this lets me pretend I have an ‘editing’ process in these posts!