Listen bitches: although I own a considerable trumpet (four metres in diameter and eight hectares in width), I prefer not to blow it.
Nothing infuriates me more than writers morphing into self-promoting robots. I am referring to the Twitter culture. The links within links within links. Soon, people will become so self-absorbed, the planet will be populated with four billion people-countries. The adage ‘no man is an island’ will become true, and will have to be adapted to accommodate women.
What? Well, imagine I have a new piece of writing randomly splatted into some obscure corner of the internet. Imagine I wish for people to read this adorable tale of mine. Well… stop right there, Jane! First thing: no one reads linked work. In fact, the best thing about online magazines is the remarkable sense of stillness that surrounds a piece once it is popped online. A Zen-like calm surrounds a piece of work once it is dumped onto some ‘hot’ e-zine.
I for one like this stillness. Getting a piece published online is like finding a retirement home for an elderly grandparent. Put the beautiful creation to bed with a nice diazepam and Nytol cocktail.
Notwithstanding my writing confreres, who can hoot whenever they like, I’m running head-first into the woods at the first sight of a link to an e-zine or an online mag.
Self-promotion is a hectare of wank.
Nothing infuriates me more than writers morphing into self-promoting robots. I am referring to the Twitter culture. The links within links within links. Soon, people will become so self-absorbed, the planet will be populated with four billion people-countries. The adage ‘no man is an island’ will become true, and will have to be adapted to accommodate women.
What? Well, imagine I have a new piece of writing randomly splatted into some obscure corner of the internet. Imagine I wish for people to read this adorable tale of mine. Well… stop right there, Jane! First thing: no one reads linked work. In fact, the best thing about online magazines is the remarkable sense of stillness that surrounds a piece once it is popped online. A Zen-like calm surrounds a piece of work once it is dumped onto some ‘hot’ e-zine.
I for one like this stillness. Getting a piece published online is like finding a retirement home for an elderly grandparent. Put the beautiful creation to bed with a nice diazepam and Nytol cocktail.
Notwithstanding my writing confreres, who can hoot whenever they like, I’m running head-first into the woods at the first sight of a link to an e-zine or an online mag.
Self-promotion is a hectare of wank.
"First thing: no one reads linked work." - That is so untrue I want to hit you. Seriously. I just finished reading a story so beautifully written and sad that it made me cry. I'm not fucking kidding. It was something linked on Twitter that I NEVER would have had the pleasure of reading otherwise. What the hell is this high-horse of yours all about?
ReplyDeleteAre you here to write, read and be read? Or are you the guy who shows up at the party just to whine about how lame it is. I thought that we were all here for the same reasons. According to your posts you hate Twitter and self-promotion, you hate online lit mags, and you hate editors. WHY!?
Look how angry you make me!
Yes: a slap is probably necessary. Nay, mandatory!
ReplyDeleteDon't take my cranky rants too seriously: if I loathed the Twitter, the lit mags and the editors I wouldn't bother using them.
This is merely cathartic steam-blowing. From an idiot. No high-horsery. Just steam-blowing. Pfft pfft.
Write, submit and be merry!
When I decide to flog myself I will most certainly credit those whose insight and support helped me arrive at the apex of self-aggrandizement.
ReplyDeleteI often read linked writing.
ReplyDelete(I hate the word 'work' for writing).
I link my writing all the time. And other people's writing.
Nothing wrong with promoting yourself, unless you suck. And then the problem is that you suck, not that you're promoting your own writing.
Now I'm going to click some links on your bragging wall and read your writing.
I just went and looked at your story on my blog and realized you were the guy I was an idiot asshole to because I don't know non-american english.
ReplyDeleteI really like cheeseburgers too.
Hello Brandi! Yes, linking is fine, really. I should maybe have made this passive-aggressive little whine sound more amusing and less like a bucket of suck-ass. Never mind.
ReplyDeleteI'm British. Modesty. Meh.
I do think it might serve all of us to impose a limit of one quality tweet per 24 hr. period. Work on it, tune it, make it count. Discipline, people, discipline. My eyes glaze over when I see the same name seven times in a row, even the people I know and love (Diplomacy, people, diplomacy).
ReplyDeleteLovely Derek. Viva la Osbourne revolution!
ReplyDeleteI agree with you. The Internet is for twit-watters and Begian Waffles. Also, the Internet is for British people who otherwise would not have an outlet for their frustration from underneath that stiff upper lip. And it is for people with a sense of humour, and for those without. It is for people that understand the meaning of irony, and for people who still awaits the Titanic in New York. The Internet is for all of us! Let's all be happy together! Weeeee!
ReplyDelete