Going on the Account: Why Don’t You Write Me?


Good question; I hope I have a good answer…


I do have a few folk who asked me why the blogging slacked off.  There’s a few answers, some of which can be stated aloud without embarrassment.

I can cite the effort to work on a third longer piece, and how that got complicated.  Normally, I don’t like to discuss my work without having done it first; the last thing I need is to promise something that doesn’t like up to the hype.  But there are problems with that, in that I have a choice between showing up to a crowded house and not living up to the bill, versus having something to offer unannounced to empty seats.  That’s not a great set of choices to work with, either way.

The new project, too, has its own special issues:  I managed to pick a body of the Solar System where a recent wave of discoveries made us rethink everything we knew ab out it.  And, because it’s happening as I’m doing plotting and scene set-ups, requires me to do serious rewrites.  Multiple.  Times.

I’m probably the only soul on the planet who sees a headline about learning something new about Titan, shaking my fist as a roar, “Damn you, Cassi-ni-i-i-I-I-I-I-I!!!!!

So in the meantime, I took a spot on REBEAT Magazine.  It’s been fruitful, getting a few pieces up, some historical examinations of pop culture.  The last one I got placed there, about the 1970s’ obsession with the 1950s, I’m particular proud of.

Which is difficult for me to say, because there’s a horrific amount of modesty that I have to fight against if I’m going to get any word out about what I do.  Which brings me back to Ceres and blogging.

Is it expectation, fear of failure, or at the least of feeling like the payoff for the effort’s not worth it?  Which I suppose is reasonable on some level, especially if we consider…

…yeah, I’m going there…

the dress.

It blew up out of nowhere, and just overwhelmed everything; we’d probably still be obsessing if we didn’t get word about Leonard Nimoy’s departure.  Ironically, it took the death of an actor who personified living in a logical manner to snap us out of our crazed obsession.

The one thing the damned shmata did do for us was to help measure how we find out about things now.  Like radioactive iodine injections for a thyroid test, following how this went viral gave a better sense of how to get the word out there.  And the first lesson is, it’s like Captain America’s super soldier project:  It’s not really able to be replicated, so calm down and stop trying.

A while ago, I tried looking at writing in different ways to keep from giving it up get a better understanding of it, and there is one model that suggests any correlation with how writers find readers:

The lottery.

It takes more effort to write a 60,000 word novel than it does to put five bucks on a string of quick-picks, but otherwise the mechanisms are the same:  Attention comes to you if your product meets the dictate of Market, and if your output is in sync with what Market wants, to the point where you have all six digits that She requires, you will be very well off.  (Buy the extra ball for double payout, and you too can insure everyone at the house gets $5,000 as a bonus.)

Work?  Sure, yeah, but when you subscribe to the above model, a LOT of the pressure gets removed…

So it’s time to get up, try not to listen to what’s trending online now, especially if it’s coming in from Saturn, and get back to it.  The writing may well end up going nowhere, or it may play out like last night’s drawing did.  Either way, you keep going.

You drop down the five bucks for tickets.  You find a mag that likes your writing, and keep working on the other projects.  And you keep feeding the beast, like coming back to the blog to keep the content going.

At least until the folks who asked for you start to wonder, “Why don’t you stop already?”