No one likes being followed…

…so why is it a supposed to be a good thing on the net?  The give and take, the back and forth, the suck; it takes over your soul.  I don’t mind the whole idea as much as I used to, but….

I just don’t feel like playing along.  I have a Facebook wall, and a Twitter page, and I have never been to either one, except to sign up.  It’s just something you’re supposed to do–auto posting to Twitter and Facebook and whatever else.

The fact is, I have this other, much preferred writing that I like to do.  It doesn’t sound or feel much like anything on this blog except that most of what I do might be characterized as Romantic Realism to one degree or another–even my science fiction.  Even my projects that don’t involve writing.

The talented young man with the sonnet, and the funny haiku, and the funny sonnet (that could have described me as a young man because my hair is naturally as he describes his friend’s–what a strange piece of synchronicity) He knows how to play the game.  And he seems to like the game.

The young man (compared to me) with the poetry page and who has the Science Fiction novel on Amazon.  Good writing–no, excellent writing, to be sure–but very dark.  I’m not sure I’d call it Science Fiction.  More like horror; although, I’m not sure, because I don’t read horror–at least not very often.

Too dark for me, although it’s good enough that I was tempted to buy it.  The intro on amazon fairly well sucked me in.  Perhaps I will anyway, for when I’m in the mood for something that dark.  I’m tempted to ask the man, Misha, I think, who edits his copy? It seems edited to me, though perhaps he does his own.  Perhaps he is an editor professionally and knows the craft.  Perhaps, he just separates or detaches himself from his writing and is able to look at it as though he had not written it.  I have heard, here and there, that that is not recommended.

But, the thing is,  I’ve read a lot of work on line that one can tell lacked a good editor’s eye.  But….  A good story is a good story.  And that feeling of “this is somehow different from a professionally published novel” disappears pretty quickly when the story is good.  You get used to the slight rough around the edges feel of self edited work, and it stops bothering you.

It’s like switching from regular Coke to diet, it tastes odd at first, but if you stick with it for a while, after a week or two, it tastes like the best thing ever.

Naturally, some self editing is better than other self editing.  But the story, the structure, and the style still shines through that.  I read Harry Potter and the Method’s of Rationality by Eliezer Yudkowsky (Just Google it with Bing, you really don’t need a link) and that was wonderful–thus far anyway, I think it’s still in progress.  His self editing gets better all the time, as does his writing.  But it never seems quite like professional editing.  But once again.  The writing is wonderful and the story is great, and all the scientific goodies are very engaging, so it really doesn’t matter.

But you see, now I’ve spent too much time thinking about all this already, and I could have been writing about Link and Jake and Siobhan, or reading through five or six more Scarlatti sonatas, or any of a number of other things I’d rather be doing.

The people I’m writing about in my not-online life, are much happier, although serious things are happening to them and all around them.  Still, my focus on their lives is not so grave.  They are people I’d like to know.  Catskinner and co, are definitely not people I’d like to know.  Not that that means I’d never want to read about them, but….

I’m in the grips of something romantic.  Something beautiful which seems to have taken over my life, giving me focus, not just regarding my writing, but all of my endeavors.

Anyway, the point here is:   Follow me, if you must.  I’ll try not to find it creepy, like I–like most of us–would in real life.  But I’m not following you.  Either online, or otherwise.  I won’t be watching your every word while you type.  And I won’t be hiding behind the bushes when you go out for a walk in order to see where you go and what you do.

That doesn’t mean I won’t read your poetry or your novel or click the “I like this” or the “thumbs up” button; it just means I don’t want to get carried away into cyberspace, never to be heard from again.

And, to be fair, I should probably apologize for my shoddy self-editing.

And now….  Back to Jake and Link, who only a few hours ago were very busy making me smile.

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