In appreciation of audiences.

I read a pretty off-the-mark blog post on what Tumblr says about us collectively and as individuals. Post is here; you can see my response to it in the comments. In a nutshell, I think that the sort of reflexive microblogging that Tumblr encourages is the closest thing we're ever going to have to telepathy. If you want to get a peak inside someone's skull, follow their Tumblr.

But there's another point the blog post brings up that got me thinking. He talks about how sad it is that people would pursue happiness by collecting gifs, reposting videos, sharing jokes and stories that other people made up and exhorts people to go out and make and do things on their own. There's a lot of privileged assumption right there, but apart from that...

Who would appreciate it if they did?

In his critique of the Tumblrverse, he has positioned the act of receiving art, of appreciating creativity, as a sad and passive failure of human potential. This can't be a mere consequence of location. We have to assume that one who views pictures in a museum for happiness while not creating any is demonstrating a similar level of failure. If a play with a cast and crew of two dozen is watched by an audience of two hundred, think about what that says about us as a species. Just 12% of the people in the building had the gumption to get up and put on a show while the rest sat on their behinds and watched? Gasp! Where is Tyler Durden when we need him most?

Art requires appreciation. Appreciation requires art. Tumblr is a social platform, but it's also a content distribution system. The fact that it's mostly audience is not a flaw in the design of Tumblr. It's a feature in the design of art.

Monday, September 19th: The Time To Hesitate Is Through

News For Today

I have to tell you, my confidence levels when it comes to writing and posting has never been higher. This new schedule isn't just a schedule in the sense of a series of times/dates at which I've marked down an obligation, it's a schedule for doing things. It's a regimen, and it works. It works when I'm insomniac and sleep deprived and worried about things, which should be the standard stress test for anything in my life. If a thing can't withstand that, it doesn't work in my life.

On the subject of things I worry about, I'm stepping up my fundraising efforts. I have every confidence that in a few months of regular performance my income will be back up to what I think of as normal, but right now there's a gap between what I have and what I need and I need to fill it. I don't blame anyone but myself for this; I do my best to let my readers into my life, especially since you've said (and shown!) that you want this, but my own doubts keep me from being clear about my needs. I keep saying I'm going to be more direct and then not doing it. That's why when I got up this afternoon (hello, insomnia my old friend) the first thing I did was add a more obvious fundraiser box on the Tales of MU site.

The wording on the new nagbox ("$1,000 makes this box go away. Nothing makes the story go away.") is very deliberately chosen.

I want people to think about what would happen if I couldn't make my living doing this. I was able to write and work in my early twenties. When I started Tales of MU I was already past my prime when it comes to the "able to burn the midnight oil and then work a 9-to-5" phase of one's life. The realization that I was destroying my health and sanity trying to live like I was still 20 is a big part of why I decided to make writing my job instead of a calling I performed on top of a job.

I'm still figuring out what it means for this to be "my job"... I tried treating it like a 9-to-5, but it's not. It takes a delicate balance of inspiration and obligation to keep the stories coming.

But at the same time that I want people to think about that, I'm not worried that I won't be able to afford to keep doing this in the long run. My readers stick by me. The core support that I get from my monthly sponsors is not enough for me to live on, but it's enough to keep me going through short periods where there's nothing else to speak of coming in... as long as things pick back up soon enough, or I get a boost to make up the gap.

Nothing will make the story go away. It only stops if I stop it, and I'm not getting sick of it or bored or throwing it away in frustration. That's the lesson of this summer. Maybe I should have just announced and taken a hiatus, but at the worst... in sickness, in fear, in frustration... let's face it, I'm married to this thing.

And maybe that's not the savviest thing to say as a businessperson, but I'm not about to stage a hostage drama here. If I have to do that I'll quit writing and become an actor or something. Instead, I'm just saying: I'm still here, I'm still dancing... throw me some coins.

State of the Me

See above re: insomnia. The pills make it better. The new writing regimen makes missed sleep less devastating to my ability to create.

Plans For Today

Today's Day 2 of the cycle, so I'm trying out beginnings for chapter 33. I have a few different ideas for the scope of the chapter, and I like how my new approach lets me try them on before I commit to one. Because I had a late start and am a little groggy, I'm not committing to anything else right now... but I'm kind of thrilled to know that today might have been a "dead day" for me half a year ago and now it's still productive.