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Dusting off a Moldering Rant Against Robin Hobb and the Evils of the Blog
I still hate the new TalkCSI setup. It's clunky fug wrapped in a glossy exterior, and I resent the fact that the site has become a revenue whore littered with junk ads, especially since the junk ads are no doubt responsible for the deceptive, strongarm tactic of holding email replies for ransom until you visit the site again. Sorry, Talk, but I'm not a trained mouse and have no interest in becoming one, so you and your money-whoring scheme can fuck right off.
And speaking of people who can fuck right off, Robin Hobb has opened her cakehole on the subject of blogging, that crass habit of the great unwashed that so rudely intrudes upon her lofty craft of Writing(and yes, I hear the capital "W" when she writes that word). According to her, blogging isn't writing, but a pathetic brand of voyeurism that saps a real writer's creativity like a pernicious vampire. Blogging is a cheap, empty waste of time.
She's not entirely wrong; blogging and the Internet in general are oddly hypnotic, and if you're not careful, you can, indeed, waste hours, days, entire goddamn lives on the Internet.
See, here's the thing: If you're a writer, and you feel the frustrated stirrings of resentment toward the Internet because it won't "let" you write, you have a problem, indeed. I submit to you, however, that it's not the one you think.
Your problem isn't the Internet; it's your lack of spine.
Every modem and computer has an off switch. Learn to use it with the same deft facility with which you use the other keys. If you know, blogging will distract you, then don't keep a blog, or if you've already started, don't blog until you've Written. It's the simple carrot-and-stick approach. If you don't love Writing enough to have that little discipline, then maybe you need a new passion, one at least as strong as a dyspeptic double-bean burrito fart. If you can't do that for the sake of your precious "Art", then you're just looking for excuses.
It is possible to blog and Write. Neil Gaiman does it. John Scalzi does it. Joe Hill does it on rare occasions, and I don't see them in the throes of penury. Neil Gaiman, the most prolific of the three in terms of blog/web presence, has certainly not diminished in either talent or productivity. He manages both with aplomb, even though blogging is a dirty business best done in the dark and as quickly as possible so that he can purify himself with Writing That Matters, and oh, my God, why are so many Writers such pretentious, insufferable asses?
You know Neil's secret? No, he isn't a lycra-wearing superhero named the Jolly Kronos who can bend time to his will, though that would be spectacular. He prioritizes. Such a naughty word in today's Everything World, I know, but it works. When it comes time to Write, he buckles down and gets the job done. It's amazing, and I can only commend him for his immeasurable fortitude. I never would have countenanced such an idea, myself.
And you know what's even more shocking? The Writers who have difficulty prioritizing man up and leave the Internet for a time. Scott Lynch, who wrote The Lies of Locke Lamora had a nifty and often hilarious LJ. I once saw a macro commentary he'd done on the latest Potter tempest of the day and almost peed my pants. Anyway, he wrote his books. While blogging and working as a volunteer fireman. Somehow, with the evil blogging in his blood, he managed to write his book, and it was successful; so much so that he even got to write a second one.
I know.
The Internet is not a creativity vampire. It's an excuse for lazy people who can't or won't admit that Writing isn't always a fun, graceful dance. Sometimes, it's a hard, miserable slog. Writing is not just Art, ephemeral and waiting to be plucked from the limpid pools of the Artiste's subconscious, but work. Hard, ugly, tedious, ass-clenching work.
But rather than admit that Writers sometimes hate their job(and as soon as you get paid for it, it's a job) and consequently contract a savage case of Droop-eyed and Drag-assed, some Writers would rather wag their fingers and place the blame for their lassitude on the Internet, that perverse, amoral, usurper of their special Writers' Brain Waves.
What makes her histrionic nonsense even richer is the fact that she posted it for the world to see.
On the Internet.
And speaking of people who can fuck right off, Robin Hobb has opened her cakehole on the subject of blogging, that crass habit of the great unwashed that so rudely intrudes upon her lofty craft of Writing(and yes, I hear the capital "W" when she writes that word). According to her, blogging isn't writing, but a pathetic brand of voyeurism that saps a real writer's creativity like a pernicious vampire. Blogging is a cheap, empty waste of time.
She's not entirely wrong; blogging and the Internet in general are oddly hypnotic, and if you're not careful, you can, indeed, waste hours, days, entire goddamn lives on the Internet.
See, here's the thing: If you're a writer, and you feel the frustrated stirrings of resentment toward the Internet because it won't "let" you write, you have a problem, indeed. I submit to you, however, that it's not the one you think.
Your problem isn't the Internet; it's your lack of spine.
Every modem and computer has an off switch. Learn to use it with the same deft facility with which you use the other keys. If you know, blogging will distract you, then don't keep a blog, or if you've already started, don't blog until you've Written. It's the simple carrot-and-stick approach. If you don't love Writing enough to have that little discipline, then maybe you need a new passion, one at least as strong as a dyspeptic double-bean burrito fart. If you can't do that for the sake of your precious "Art", then you're just looking for excuses.
It is possible to blog and Write. Neil Gaiman does it. John Scalzi does it. Joe Hill does it on rare occasions, and I don't see them in the throes of penury. Neil Gaiman, the most prolific of the three in terms of blog/web presence, has certainly not diminished in either talent or productivity. He manages both with aplomb, even though blogging is a dirty business best done in the dark and as quickly as possible so that he can purify himself with Writing That Matters, and oh, my God, why are so many Writers such pretentious, insufferable asses?
You know Neil's secret? No, he isn't a lycra-wearing superhero named the Jolly Kronos who can bend time to his will, though that would be spectacular. He prioritizes. Such a naughty word in today's Everything World, I know, but it works. When it comes time to Write, he buckles down and gets the job done. It's amazing, and I can only commend him for his immeasurable fortitude. I never would have countenanced such an idea, myself.
And you know what's even more shocking? The Writers who have difficulty prioritizing man up and leave the Internet for a time. Scott Lynch, who wrote The Lies of Locke Lamora had a nifty and often hilarious LJ. I once saw a macro commentary he'd done on the latest Potter tempest of the day and almost peed my pants. Anyway, he wrote his books. While blogging and working as a volunteer fireman. Somehow, with the evil blogging in his blood, he managed to write his book, and it was successful; so much so that he even got to write a second one.
I know.
The Internet is not a creativity vampire. It's an excuse for lazy people who can't or won't admit that Writing isn't always a fun, graceful dance. Sometimes, it's a hard, miserable slog. Writing is not just Art, ephemeral and waiting to be plucked from the limpid pools of the Artiste's subconscious, but work. Hard, ugly, tedious, ass-clenching work.
But rather than admit that Writers sometimes hate their job(and as soon as you get paid for it, it's a job) and consequently contract a savage case of Droop-eyed and Drag-assed, some Writers would rather wag their fingers and place the blame for their lassitude on the Internet, that perverse, amoral, usurper of their special Writers' Brain Waves.
What makes her histrionic nonsense even richer is the fact that she posted it for the world to see.
On the Internet.