NEW MEDIA: Sgolbew

My previous post on Weblogs caught Sallie’s eye, a long-time blogger and super writer who understands what I meant by that little bit of nostalgia over that "perfect" post, as well as the eye of Steve (or the raw nerve endings of his brain), my professor and one of the instructors in the New Media course.

He’s brought up a less personal but more technical and literary aspect of the transient nature (or so I suggested) of the weblog, and has pointed out by his questioning nature the actual similarities between reading a book or reading a weblog. 

My bold statement was: 

"Yes, weblogs are good for going forward, a book without an end. 

But no beginning."

This was based on the concept that as earlier entries scroll off the page and settle into the archives, they normally offer as a beginning or starting place the opening main page, with the most recent entry on top.  This creates a new beginning with each entry.  For now, until I get another bright idea that simply must be blogged about, this particular entry will be the opening scene of the journal.  No background given, no chapter listing, no clue as to what went before.  But then too, no final page to flip to for those who might be the antsy type to see how the story ends. 

Or, is this in fact the final entry, the last page?  And for the google and yahoo folk, they may enter my story at any point depending upon whether they typed "Cheever The Swimmer" or "Fresh pineapple in jello" into the search box.

Do you realize what all this means?  The weblog can be considered one of the most flexible, personalized forms of media available.  The modules are all in place–the entries individually set between others of their ilk (category), time of birth (month posted), or living alone in the Permalink zone, ready to be plucked forward and plopped on the big screen at the click of a mouse button. 

Here’s what Steve (Professor Stephen Ersinghaus at Tunxis Community College in Farmington, CT) said in his comment:

"The reader encounters the blog at the beginning. This would be an excellent new media "reading" issue. I think you’ve touched on this issue: where does "the story" begin.

Consider the Cindy Lou Who issue in this light too."

How shall I answer this?  I think he already has.  Wherever the reader enters, that’s the beginning.  The place where he’s landed by choice or by screw-up (really wanted something about spinning flax into gold and I was the best Google could come up with) is the beginning of my story that he will take and make his own by maneuvering between the links, going off site to read other stories, or clicking the X box and close my "book."

Or, should I say "his/her" book, since the reader surely has full control over the linearity of the narrative. 

And when Steve suggests the application to the Cindy-Lou Who story/post, whether mine or his at GLH, or any others written by our Narratives group members (others welcome, too, of course–join the fun!), it becomes another interesting phenomenon.  Without knowing the story of The Grinch who Stole Christmas, or of Cindy-Lou, our "Cindy-Lou, twenty-or more years later" stories are not seen as sequels, but as new stories, with flashbacks of background that relate the original tale. 

So there’s that perception thing again.  And the time quandry.  And obviously a problem of space since my post was right under the logo this morning, and now it’s moved.  But this link brings it back into view; back to the top of a new "page" that looks similar to it’s first place, but different because the placement is different–no logo, no entries below it, comments are right there beneath it.  So while the post may be considered a "dead issue", lost in cosmic space as I said, it in truth lives on.  May even grow up to be a beginning for a new reader who typed Cyndi Lauper’s name in wrong in the Google search box.

Now do you see why New Media has taken over my life?  There’s a wealth of answers, and more questions in every link.