What did I learn from scrolling
through all of my blog posts? I didn’t learn to hate Blogger – that hate was
already there from, oh, using Blogger.
Generally, once a blog post is up, yes, it
stays up.
Specifically,
any post is open to revision.
If I misremember wrongly, I took one post
down after I’d published ahead of time by mistake. But, come the hour, it went
back online. And, for contractual reasons, I’ve removed a bunch of posts in
series…but not completely. Digital tombstones remain where those entries once
sat.
Yes, a handful of posts had to go. They are
still on file – when you hit the unpublish button, those entries scurry back
through that hole in the skirting. As I type this, I have two dozen blog posts
in cryogenic freezing chambers on Blogger.
There are also posts I never published. For
one reason or another, a post can be eclipsed by events. What seemed relevant last
night can feel dead in the water for reasons of mood and tone this morning.
Occasionally, I take a second stab at an unpublished post and I release the
second one while the first stays on ice.
That can be useful for comparison purposes
backstage.
So much for posts being up.
As for posts staying open to revision…
I fix major changes and add a comment about those
big changes. Minor changes happen when I realise something is a bit off, and I go
back in with the bandages. No need to broadcast those tiny alterations.
Hyperlinks are always suspect. I sweep over
the landscape with my metal detector, and defuse the landmines I find.
If I’m
linking to other blog posts of mine, then, no, the links are not suspect at
all. But if I link out to the YOUTUBES on the INTERWEBS, or maybe even the
Wikipedia on the World Wide Super-information Side-Street just to read an entry
on THE STAR WARS…
Then the particular song video/retrospective
review/irritating rant might no longer be there – victim of a copyright strike.
And so. Hyperlinks are always suspect.
I sweep over the landscape with my metal
detector, and defuse the landmines I find. Occasionally, there’s an explosion…
*
Blogger is the cause of much
bloggery, to which I say…bloggeration! I type these posts the same way: in a
file. No, I don’t type into Blogger directly. Doing that allows a plague of
annoyances through the door. Landmines explode.
I’ve been in Blogger often enough, arranging
formatting, to catch the newsflash that Blogger’s autosave function is not
reliable. Error messages warn me of the nuclear meltdown. This is always
annoying. But it would be a catastrophic meltdown if I wrote raw text in there
and lost it.
Time for a technical term…
Fuck that shit.
So. Same empty file and layout each time.
The same font and the same size of font each time. And yet, when I drop the
text into Blogger and set THE SAME SIZE OF TEXT each time, the same size of
text doesn’t always appear in the finished product.
Colour me stunned.
Scrolling through the latest batch of blog
posts and working my way back to the start, I see that the size of text online
varies by the phase of the moon, the howl of the wolf, or the direction of a
chilly wind.
This slight variation from post to post…I
daresay I could fix. But I am done with trying to purify endless Blogger
glitches of the minor variety. Looking over one post that called for a slight
update, I saw there were a few lines of text dancing to an unknown tune.
How to describe that effect without just copying and
pasting and then infecting this
wholly
separate entry?
I guess I could
tab my way through
a few lines to give an
example
of that
off-kilter experience.
However, unlike the tab – easy enough to
delete – the glitchy gremlin stays stuck in its own or someone else’s invisible
concrete. I wasn’t in there to fix that bitch of a glitch, scratching that
itch, but something else needed updated. Update done, I left the glitch alone
and went on to study more blog posts. All the blog posts.
Yes, I repeat phrases with great
deliberation. Repetition as theme across many blog posts is acceptable. I’ll
tolerate repetition for poetic, comedic, or thematic effect. Songs are poems
set to tunes. And beyond those milestones, my tolerance for repetition
evaporates.
*
What else? This is not a major
minor news outlet or a drama cesspool. Occasionally I’ve dipped into the murky
world of publishing drama over in the romance book genre, and other areas
besides. Romance book writers who lose their shit with alarming regularity do
so either…
After deciding to trademark the basic bitch
title of a basic bitch book they’ve written…
Or…
Fall apart when avid readers uncover the
industrial-strength levels of plagiarism going on from book to book.
Romance readers are rabid avid readers. They will find you out. And blab to the world.
By plagiarism, I mean outright copy-and-paste theft with a
name-replacement thrown in as a lick of paint that fools no one.
For sound legal reasons, I’d advise never to
put out someone else’s Big Gay
Firefighter Romance with Chad Turner
changed to Brad Turner all the way
through. Switching one (headless) rippling torso cover for another will fool no
one. Your unaltered description of the firefighter’s powerful hose is often the
giveaway.
And for entirely different sound legal
reasons, I beg of you, never ever in the history of history, attempt to
copyright or trademark a title. If you are still hell-bent on that lunatic course
of action, fucking read copyright and trademark law. And then never embark on
that lunatic course of action.
Carrying a (much-copied) albatross around a
weary neck for the rest of eternity? Not worth the fizziness of the drama. They
will find you out and hound you, those rabid readers. Quite right, too.
Yes,
occasionally, I’ve covered dramatic incidents from the online world. But I
discover more drama in the behind-the-scenes areas and say nothing on a regular
basis. Quite right, too. I leave it to others whose stock-in-trade is exposing
those who already bared their arseholes to the internet.
After
one romance writer froths at the mouth and goes slack-jawed trying to
copyright, trademark, or “liberate” a title, you’ve pretty much learned all you
can stomach about the sheer fucking fuckwittery of people who didn’t take legal
advice first, second, and last.
“I’ve decided to trademark Quivering Lips™. Now I will deliver an
opporchancity to all romance writers everywhere. Yes, I’m going to charge you
rent on that phrase.”
Acidic response…
“Hi, Basic Bitch Romance Author. I notice
that you are trying to fleece the rest of us with your Bullshit Ploy®. Not complaining. Just letting you know that my
twelve-book Quivering Lips® saga is
now on sale everywhere, including at the concession stand inside your own
bathroom.”
“The audacity!”
“Just be sure, when writing about quivering
lips, that you are writing about the right set of lips. I registered my
trademark on the other pair. No, my romance novels don’t stop at the bedroom
door. My books start there and dive straight to the raunchy point. Which is the
Clitoris™.”
If you want drama, fucking write something
fucking dramatic. Don’t be fucking dramatic.
*
For many reasons, a few of my
blog posts weren’t of standard length. My variable rule is that I’ll write at
least 1,500 words when I can. Writing over the finish-line is acceptable.
The main change to the blog was shifting
from weekly writing to monthly writing. I used to be fired up on a Sunday night
as I wrote Monday morning’s blog post. Routine changed that. Also, it’s been a
long while since I arranged half a dozen blog posts in advance, set to go off
when Blogger’s alarm rang its electronic delivery warning.
But I still blog regularly…almost always
within the first week of the month, unless busy. Then it’ll be in the second
week of the month, most likely. This is the routine now, and it’s been the
routine for what feels like eternity.
Staring at blog post after blog post as I
scrolled and scrolled, I thought of so many other people who blogged about
writing. Yes, I blog less. But blog I still do. It’s a shame to see people fall
by the wayside. Life intrudes. No fault or blame there.
I blogged because I wanted to keep blogging.
Looking for something of note to blog about, I’d research all the arcane
corners of the world. Keeps your mind busy. You connect five things and engage
the brain while doing so. Out pour the words. You have a deadline, and a minimum word-limit. Time on your hands. A blank page to fill.
Staring slack-jawed into the distance with
no thought to occupy you…
That’s a sign of too much coffee. Or not
enough. I’m going with…not enough.
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