©2022 Michael Raven
It’s Friday, yeah?
I suppose I should get on with oversharing like I am wont to do on occasion. Well then…
If you’ve done any kind of slowing down while you scroll past my posts on your feed, you’ve probably noticed that I increased my presence on Twitter under the hashtag of #vss365, which is really just an excuse to place limits I find agreeable for the time being on my writing, namely: I have a prompt I must use and I must tell a story or pen a poem in 280 characters or less, which ends up being closer to 272 characters or less because I need to apply the core hashtag and I like to put one before the prompt of the day in line with its use.
I’ve largely kept it to two submissions a day since I started to participate nearly two weeks ago, but occasionally cross-post another poem here and there, just to get a read on the audience I’m developing on Twitter. That audience is nothing to brag about, for it is quite humble, but there are several people who regularly comment on and/or like my poor offerings, some of who are involved in parts of the publishing world that I wouldn’t mind have my own involvement increase in (hence, when I mentioned I seemed to have gotten the attention of some people beyond “Oh, that guy“.) I have no illusions that it will amount to anything, but at least my chances of being noticed are better than they were a month ago.
Indeed, I also caught myself earlier in the week doing a bit of Twitter-whoring and decided that I wasn’t going to let that continue. My transactional relationship with folks there has diminished since that realization and my RTs and likes are done with moderately less abandon than they were up until about Sunday or Monday. I say that, but I look back at my activity today and realize I am slipping back into “liking” with less thought than that I should put into it even now.
Tangentially related, I have been reminded that I can’t be bothered to go to the lengths that some people go to just to get published. A few overly-happy retweeters have it firmly in their mind that it is all worth the salt to jump through all of these myriad hoops that other people, including publishers, tell them that they must, absolutely must participate in to become published and I scratch my head and think… jeeze that seems a little too much like a job I would hate doing just to see my name on the cover of a book. Too much tension, drama, trauma, and fussiness that takes saps all of the fun out of writing and being creative. I don’t want the thing that I love doing to become mere tedium for the sake of validation.
There’s that word, again: validation…
I don’t know how I feel about that word. It’s nice to feel validated, but not so keen to feel the need for validation, if you grok what I say. So, if someone earnestly likes what I write, it is nice to know that. But I don’t want what I write to be the engine for generating that validation, and therefore be fine-tuned to tick all of the boxes that ensure more validation, rather than less. It was another thing I was starting to realize earlier in the week — that I was writing to an audience on several pieces I worked on instead of for my own needs, likes, loves and reasons. Which circles back to that whole “whoring” vibe I was creating for myself. So, if there was a bit of a notable flavor change in what I was posting this week, assume that it came out of that intellectual and emotional growth. I went back to writing what I wanted instead of what other people wanted, letting my own dorky sense of humor shine out in a few pieces. It was liberating to just stick to the original constraints I had placed on myself instead of compounding those with unrealized constraints that were multiplicative in nature.
I started using a bit of tablet software drawing thingabob to explore the tactile nature of runes last night. It is easy to copy and past the runes, even put them on bits of wood and whatnot, but there is a whole different feel when you try to make them bigger. Why am I doing that? Well, as I said — for the tactile feel much like you get when you write words on paper. It helps with memory. Plus, as threatened at one point, I do plan to update all of the rune pages with the various alternative variations of each rune, and I felt this might be one of the better ways to understand why one variant evolved into another.
This weekend, I think I may carve out a writing space next to the desktop. I have a desk in the living room that was meant to act as a homework station and has emerged as the clear winner for “horizontal space to put things that ought to be put into the garbage”. Everyone will find another Horizontal Space, but I plan to actually utilize it by my other less-writing-surface-friendly workstation spaces. Then I may set up the white-noise generator and print up a sign that says disturbing the writer may lead to loss of life or limb to put on the door.
And then: write.
Not that any publishers would apparently deign to read what I write because I didn’t kiss the right buttocks and present it in a manner that makes them feel powerful overlords. But I’m not convinced I need that kind of validation, and I will blissfully write away in a swamp of ignorance until the day I die.