Finally forced a friend to read one of my latest stories and judging by the response, I think it can just go in the file.
Been scan-reading some of the 5000-plus posts as I’ve been putting in the images and making all the necessary tweaks required by the move from Typepad to WordPress and it seems that in some ways I’ve lost a part of me in the voice. There is a freshness to the old posts, an honesty. Even as there is an improvement in the overall style and language, something is missing from my writing now.
What I’ve noticed is a lot of poetry–a lot of poetry–in the early postings. While I haven’t gotten a great response to my poems, though I’ve a couple published, I’m also taking into consideration that I don’t get a lot of response or encouragement to my writing from those who know me and have come to depend more upon new readers for a reaction. There is a distancing in online writing–weblogs, social services such as Twitter, MySpace, Facebook–that build that fourth wall of artistic separation, turning readers into an audience. And when you’re sitting in a crowd, the actor doesn’t know you’re there and not applauding.
So on to reading literature that spurs my instincts rather than just reading for the sake of it. That, and drawing in the circle a bit tighter.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology