If I've learned anything in all these years of typing stuff for online consumption, it's that I never quite know for sure who's going to be reading any particular item thereof, and I think it's fair to say that I do at best a halfhearted job of promoting it: I don't know how I'd react, had I any greater level of celebrity than "infinitesimal." That said, once in a while I get a smidgen of recognition: I am still actually sort of proud to have made it into the list of bloggers interviewed by Norman Geras, since his tastes, aside from that single lapse, are impeccable. And I can still count on a couple of thousand folks dropping by in any given week. More recently, I've made some effort to write fanfiction, partly because of my abiding interest in the universe of this particular fandom, but also because I've been trying to prove to myself that the skill sets for fiction and nonfiction overlap somewhere within my reach.
Regular readers here will note that I am not above posting something specifically to draw some audience segment, or to buy linkage from somewhere else, or simply to use up a title I thought up years ago but never had any opportunity to put into play. I am not yet comfortable enough as a writer of fiction, however, to attempt this level of audience manipulation. In a recent thread on FIMFiction, I rambled on for four whole paragraphs about the perfidy of fame:
As arguably the least experienced of the scribes here two stories in all I properly shouldn't have anything to say here, but if I weren't in the habit of shooting off my mouth I'd never have written those two stories. (Or the third I'm currently plotting, but you don't want to know about that.)
Obviously I had overworked myself the day I wrote that.
Still, it's a bit overwhelming to see that yes, I've spent almost half my life tossing stuff up on a screen for public inspection. Some of that stuff is really good; some of it is, um, not quite so good. (I am trying to reduce my ongoing dependence on the modest term "sucks.") But that last line is guaranteed to be true: even today, I occasionally flash through a section of the archives, and once in a while I'll actually smile at a paragraph I wrote, because, you know, it wasn't half bad.
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Copyright © 2012 by Charles G. Hill