aye, the internet as a whole may be a venue chock full of things which disappear, to be covered by sand until most (if not all) memories are gone.
But you, and lately Wednesday, have changed something in the way I think about creativity. Before, see, I never thought about why it feels so good to create, even when it's a big honkin' pain in the ass. A year of websnark has helped me realize that it's not my cute little hobby. It's real art, if I love it and feed it and help it grow, even if I never sell a piece, or get paid to sing professionally, or even if I don't share it with anyone outside my select circle (chicken: bwak bwak).
That will never go away, even if you decide one day to stop writing a blog. Never. I love the site, don't get me wrong. It's sort of like the old-fashioned salon... online. A place for creative-types to talk about their art, where nobody says "oh, look, it's Advanced Basketweaving classes" in that mocking tone, etc. The sand will never cover that track, hon. It's a mark that won't go away, in me.
That said, I understand your fear. When I stopped studying voice, and took a nine-to-five job, when I realized that opera was not in my future, for a long time I was terrified that that meant that I was that job. That I could no longer call myself a singer, that I couldn't call myself an artist because I didn't make my living off my little scribbles. But ya know what? When someone asks me, now, what I do? I tell them I'm a secretary by trade, and an artist by vocation. And although some people look at me oddly, once in a while, I'll get that look that says "I used to paint, or write, or dance; when did it stop defining me?"
You won't stop being a writer if you stop doing websnark. You couldn't. Writing for you is obviously food for the soul, or maybe even the air that it needs to breathe properly. Maybe fiction isn't your thing. Maybe your short stories suck (not that I'll believe that, you have too much talent and tenacity for anything you do to truly suck). Who cares? It's the creation that counts, isn't it? One of my favorite authors, Charles de Lint, writes amazing short stories. They freakin' come alive. His novels, while still a worthwhile read, just don't have the same living spirit to them. And this from the chick who usually hates short story collections, on account of them being too small a bite, and often the collection being disjointed, and hard to feel continuity throughout.
So if this blog is your medium, your special venue, please don't fear it, or think it less worthwhile than the printed page, darlin'. You're falling into the same trap as all those lovely webcomics. Haven't I seen you, in websnark, lament a long-gone comic that left an indelible impression? What's that, if not a forever-mark? I'm just grateful that you've found a niche that works for you, and that I've had the opportunity to share it.
One last If Wil Wheaton can turn blogging into a venue to sell his stories.... why can't you? Skip the publishing houses and their formulas, and go straight to the audience who loves you. Set yourself free the same way that the webcartoonists have. I'd so totally buy it, not because I feel like I ought to, like pledging to PBS out of guilt, but because I would love to have something by Eric Burns on my shelf. Then, years from now, after you've decided that websnark isn't your thing anymore, I could still read your work, and look forward to the next piece of your personal creative journey that you permit me to share.
Sorry for the small essay of my own. I seem to have trouble saying what I need to say without a zillion words, which of course is why creative writing isn't for me.
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On Making a mark that lasts
Date: 2005-08-29 07:05 am (UTC)But you, and lately Wednesday, have changed something in the way I think about creativity. Before, see, I never thought about why it feels so good to create, even when it's a big honkin' pain in the ass. A year of websnark has helped me realize that it's not my cute little hobby. It's real art, if I love it and feed it and help it grow, even if I never sell a piece, or get paid to sing professionally, or even if I don't share it with anyone outside my select circle (chicken: bwak bwak).
That will never go away, even if you decide one day to stop writing a blog. Never. I love the site, don't get me wrong. It's sort of like the old-fashioned salon... online. A place for creative-types to talk about their art, where nobody says "oh, look, it's Advanced Basketweaving classes" in that mocking tone, etc. The sand will never cover that track, hon. It's a mark that won't go away, in me.
That said, I understand your fear. When I stopped studying voice, and took a nine-to-five job, when I realized that opera was not in my future, for a long time I was terrified that that meant that I was that job. That I could no longer call myself a singer, that I couldn't call myself an artist because I didn't make my living off my little scribbles. But ya know what? When someone asks me, now, what I do? I tell them I'm a secretary by trade, and an artist by vocation. And although some people look at me oddly, once in a while, I'll get that look that says "I used to paint, or write, or dance; when did it stop defining me?"
You won't stop being a writer if you stop doing websnark. You couldn't. Writing for you is obviously food for the soul, or maybe even the air that it needs to breathe properly. Maybe fiction isn't your thing. Maybe your short stories suck (not that I'll believe that, you have too much talent and tenacity for anything you do to truly suck). Who cares? It's the creation that counts, isn't it? One of my favorite authors, Charles de Lint, writes amazing short stories. They freakin' come alive. His novels, while still a worthwhile read, just don't have the same living spirit to them. And this from the chick who usually hates short story collections, on account of them being too small a bite, and often the collection being disjointed, and hard to feel continuity throughout.
So if this blog is your medium, your special venue, please don't fear it, or think it less worthwhile than the printed page, darlin'. You're falling into the same trap as all those lovely webcomics. Haven't I seen you, in websnark, lament a long-gone comic that left an indelible impression? What's that, if not a forever-mark? I'm just grateful that you've found a niche that works for you, and that I've had the opportunity to share it.
One last If Wil Wheaton can turn blogging into a venue to sell his stories.... why can't you? Skip the publishing houses and their formulas, and go straight to the audience who loves you. Set yourself free the same way that the webcartoonists have. I'd so totally buy it, not because I feel like I ought to, like pledging to PBS out of guilt, but because I would love to have something by Eric Burns on my shelf. Then, years from now, after you've decided that websnark isn't your thing anymore, I could still read your work, and look forward to the next piece of your personal creative journey that you permit me to share.
Sorry for the small essay of my own. I seem to have trouble saying what I need to say without a zillion words, which of course is why creative writing isn't for me.