Friday, August 12, 2005
The Invisible Audience
James has a great post about his wife finding out about his web log. What really interests me is how he kept it a secret for so long. I'm not sure when people started coming here. There were probably two or three blissful months of me, myself and I. For some reason there's something attractive about just typing away into the nothingness, with no one to read one's words . . . yet that threat always there.
But as a college history professor once yelled to the classroom, "Is this all just . . . just . . . just mental masturbation?!" So a link was made and someone read the bottom of my e-mail signature, clicked the link, and wa-lah! One of Ours was public. Someone tells a friend, who tells someone else. Then Blogger put that great "Next Blog" link on the top, so anyone could randomly happen by.
That's probably the best part about having a website: getting the random e-mails from people I don't know. It doesn't happen often. Once a month, tops. But when it does, it's great. I always wonder how they got here. Usually their text tells me why they e-mailed -- they agreed with something I wrote, or in the case of my Dark Tower post, many disagreed -- but I always go back to how they got here.
The real sea change, for me anyway, is when my mother got on the site. Oh, boy. Some examples of why I write "Oh, boy":
• "Your language is really something. I don't know why you need to swear so much."
• "Willy, I just wanted to call you and tell you how I've been reading through your Archives, and it's just brought back so many memories."
• "Willy, I just wanted to call you and explain why I thought you might like a class ring."
After the sea change, whenever I run into people who I know have read the site, at least at one time, I always consider:
A.) What have they read, and what haven't they? Can I talk about subject X, or did they read the site?
B.) OK, so if I'm not sure of A, I have to at least tell the story differently than I wrote it. More casually. Disinterested. Faster.
C.) I can't say Y because now my mother reads the site.
D.) I have to say Y because even if she does read the site, damnit, I can't sellout and not say Y. What's the site for, if I can't say what I want?
E.) Nope. I really can't say Y. That topic's off limits. There's no way my mother should know about that.
F.) One or two work people know about this place, so I can't write about Z without being entirely vague and generic. I do need to keep my job, despite what the post will say.
The thing about telling people about one's site, though, is to acknowledge one wants people to read it. But then once they arrive, it's unavoidable that one will write in a voice to acknowledge some sort of audience; that content will appear or be edited for specific readers.
At first, I felt a little pressure to post on a regular basis -- still do actually. But leaving the site dormant drops readers, and that's not always a bad thing. Most importantly, though, I've come to hate the very cliched apology for lack of content. To apologize for not posting often enough is to say to one's readers, "Ohhhhhh, you've missed me, haven't you? Aren't I important? How could you make it those three days without me?" Ridiculous. In fact, it's so repugnant, I hereby declare a rule -- the first rule of wrfarah.blogspot.com:
1.) I shall not apologize for a lack of content. If I do, I expect each of my dozen to two dozen readers to immediately inundate oneofours@gmail.com with e-mails stating how I'm an arrogant hypocrite and I should shut down the site before my head grows so large that I won't be able to fit it through the attic doorway; then I'll be stuck here forever, or at least as long as Alice got stuck in the Rabbit's house.
I've only had one real complaint about truth on the site. About a year and a half after this post, my brother got wind of the site and decided to check it out. I quickly received an e-mail that stated:
I replied:
jon
Long-story-short, I called Jon, we discussed, agreed to disagree, and have called it a day. I stand by my memory of the conversation, and he stands by his -- which I find fascinating, but not so much that I wanted leave him with the impression that I whipped something out of thin air for laughs. But that is the danger with having a mouthpiece like this. I have no intention of tip-toeing around everybody, making sure everyone still likes me. But I also don't intend to alienate people. And certainly not over U2.
So, best of luck, James. And watch out for those rants.
But as a college history professor once yelled to the classroom, "Is this all just . . . just . . . just mental masturbation?!" So a link was made and someone read the bottom of my e-mail signature, clicked the link, and wa-lah! One of Ours was public. Someone tells a friend, who tells someone else. Then Blogger put that great "Next Blog" link on the top, so anyone could randomly happen by.
That's probably the best part about having a website: getting the random e-mails from people I don't know. It doesn't happen often. Once a month, tops. But when it does, it's great. I always wonder how they got here. Usually their text tells me why they e-mailed -- they agreed with something I wrote, or in the case of my Dark Tower post, many disagreed -- but I always go back to how they got here.
The real sea change, for me anyway, is when my mother got on the site. Oh, boy. Some examples of why I write "Oh, boy":
• "Your language is really something. I don't know why you need to swear so much."
• "Willy, I just wanted to call you and tell you how I've been reading through your Archives, and it's just brought back so many memories."
• "Willy, I just wanted to call you and explain why I thought you might like a class ring."
After the sea change, whenever I run into people who I know have read the site, at least at one time, I always consider:
A.) What have they read, and what haven't they? Can I talk about subject X, or did they read the site?
B.) OK, so if I'm not sure of A, I have to at least tell the story differently than I wrote it. More casually. Disinterested. Faster.
C.) I can't say Y because now my mother reads the site.
D.) I have to say Y because even if she does read the site, damnit, I can't sellout and not say Y. What's the site for, if I can't say what I want?
E.) Nope. I really can't say Y. That topic's off limits. There's no way my mother should know about that.
F.) One or two work people know about this place, so I can't write about Z without being entirely vague and generic. I do need to keep my job, despite what the post will say.
The thing about telling people about one's site, though, is to acknowledge one wants people to read it. But then once they arrive, it's unavoidable that one will write in a voice to acknowledge some sort of audience; that content will appear or be edited for specific readers.
At first, I felt a little pressure to post on a regular basis -- still do actually. But leaving the site dormant drops readers, and that's not always a bad thing. Most importantly, though, I've come to hate the very cliched apology for lack of content. To apologize for not posting often enough is to say to one's readers, "Ohhhhhh, you've missed me, haven't you? Aren't I important? How could you make it those three days without me?" Ridiculous. In fact, it's so repugnant, I hereby declare a rule -- the first rule of wrfarah.blogspot.com:
1.) I shall not apologize for a lack of content. If I do, I expect each of my dozen to two dozen readers to immediately inundate oneofours@gmail.com with e-mails stating how I'm an arrogant hypocrite and I should shut down the site before my head grows so large that I won't be able to fit it through the attic doorway; then I'll be stuck here forever, or at least as long as Alice got stuck in the Rabbit's house.
I've only had one real complaint about truth on the site. About a year and a half after this post, my brother got wind of the site and decided to check it out. I quickly received an e-mail that stated:
-They Still Suck! (the proof in the pudding)
"Smell ya later, U2! Smell ya later, forever!"
- Sunday, Nov. 2nd, 2003 "wrfarah.blogspot.com"
Need I say more? LOL (nice blog you have there)
"Smell ya later, U2! Smell ya later, forever!"
- Sunday, Nov. 2nd, 2003 "wrfarah.blogspot.com"
Need I say more? LOL (nice blog you have there)
I replied:
Ah, yes, Jon. So you have found yourself here.
I am glad you have enjoyed 11/2/03's post. Several of my "U2 friends" were dismayed to read it at the time. But you have read just part of the story. Now navigate to 7/19/04, in which I utterly devastate your position and clearly reinforce my own.
Glad you enjoyed the site. Cheers,
-wrf
Jon then replied:
Wow...Will, you have a VERY distorted memory of our conversation, regardless if you're correct in assuming that I've "got to be right" all the time or not. Many of my so called "arguments" you mentioned and "utterly devastated" never were uttered from my lips! If you want to get into specifics, without the low blows and fiction of which your blog post suggests, I will be happy to. But if I don't recall, the core of the conversation/debate was on whether the Edge was infact, a "revolutionary" guitarist, not whether Dream Theater was moinfluentialtal than U2. I own U2 albums, Will. I never tore them apart. Entertainment is one thing, but revolutionary-caliber guitar work is another. And for your information, I do play my acoustic every day. I never claimed to be good, or revolutionary for that matter, but is there a problem with wanting to phrase songs and lyrics with a guitar? Anyway, it was just a friendly argument about the Edge. No need to distort the events and resort to name calling for the sake of laughs.
Long-story-short, I called Jon, we discussed, agreed to disagree, and have called it a day. I stand by my memory of the conversation, and he stands by his -- which I find fascinating, but not so much that I wanted leave him with the impression that I whipped something out of thin air for laughs. But that is the danger with having a mouthpiece like this. I have no intention of tip-toeing around everybody, making sure everyone still likes me. But I also don't intend to alienate people. And certainly not over U2.
So, best of luck, James. And watch out for those rants.
