Thursday, February 8, 2007

The Tyranny of the Blog

When x4mr launched his excellent blog, Sustainability, Equity, Development, I dropped him a congratulatory note and warned him that a blog can be a cruel mistress. At the heart of that cruelty is the demand that she be attended to daily.

The urge to post daily is hard to resist. Bloggers are no less anxious for an audience than any other popular writer; no less eager for numbers rolling up on their hit counters than, say, John Grisham is for good sales figures. We quickly fall into the trap of thinking that if we don’t offer our readers something new every day we’ll lose our audience, so we rush to post.

When I was writing regularly for dead tree publications I never sent off an article or column as soon as it was finished. I set even “final drafts” aside for a day or two to see how they worked when I wasn’t in the fell clutch of a creative fury. I was ruthless about using my wife as my editor.

Incidentally, I think every writer needs an editor. Good editing is as much a creative act as good writing and that writer is rare indeed who reaches publication without a graceful nod in the direction of his or her editor, ”without whom none of this would have been possible.” Effusive, possibly, but true.

Bloggers, on the other hand, don’t have editors and the rush to post without allowing a draft to sit often results in sloppy writing. I know that’s true in my own case.

Perhaps a final observation? Great blog entries are short. When they are over-long it is probably due to rush and hurry. Remember Pascal:

I have made this letter longer than usual, only because I have not had time to make it shorter.

1 comments:

x4mr said...

Greetings, Art.

Just noticed this, and thanks for the kind words. An Editor would be a fabulous luxury, but exceeds my blogger budget. I wish I could have one. Alas, I am on my own.

If you think a blog is a cruel mistress, consider dating a "book," if it can be called that. I don't know what it is. It is NOT a novel. I don't think it's journalism, but it might be. I don't know what the hell it is, but I have to do it.

This beast, "Something Else," has usurped my life. It started as an innocent recollection of certain events, but then, holy shit.

I dropped a spark onto a pile of gunpowder and find myself in entirely, completely, totally uncharted waters.

I am going to violate dozens of protocols. I would speculate that as an artist, you can appreciate the way a certain creative endeavor can acquire a life of its own.

I am her slave.