Killing the Magic
I have this weird thing going on with blogging.
For one, I'm starting to hate the term "blogging". It makes people roll their eyes and dismiss the writing on blogs as amateurish narcissistic waffling about What I Did At The Weekend, and How I Feel About My Life, which is utter rubbish as some of the funniest and/or* most moving things I've read have been on blogs. Janet Street Porter can kiss my lily-white arse - bloggers rule and she's running scared. Buck-toothed witch.
Anyway. I digress.
What I meant to say was that I have developed a small, slightly autistic routine around writing posts for my blog. The way it works is this:
If I am truly stuck, I open a new post and type things and delete them until something sticks**.
Sometimes I am so desperate to write something down that I write a post in my head, and then at the first opportunity write frantic, scribbly notes that I completely fail to decipher later and which result in half-arsed pointless dribblings of the sort that would make Janet Street-Porter feel totally vindicated if she were aware of my existence.
[as a small aside, I am watching telly. There was an advert on just now for a pregnancy test that actually presents the result with the words "pregnant" or "not pregnant". In my personal opinion, if you are so mentally disadvantaged that the appearance of a blue line to confirm the fact is beyond you, your reading skills are likely to be at a level that 1) negate any possible advantage of s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g-i-t-o-u-t-f-o-r-y-o-u and 2) suggest that your level of supervision should preclude that thing which may or may not have got you pregnant in the first place. In my opinion. Which is mine, and that I am entitled to whether you agree with it or not. You know who you are]
At all times I am conscious that the transition from idea to screen is totally, irrationally dependent on my Not Telling Anyone what I am considering writing about. The act of saying "ooh! that would make a brilliant post!" or of someone saying "you really should blog about that, you know" is known in our house as "Killing the Magic".
If it's any consolation, I know what a pretentious twunt this makes me sound. As if you're interested in any of this. I just needed to share. I was thinking about writing about going to see Robbie Williams, you see. I actually composed the post in my head on the way home from the gig, to help block out the absolutely proper fucking dreadful Take That songs that Zanna and Cuppa were subjecting me to. And then I came to write it and found that I had inadvertently killed the magic. Bollocks to it.
Oh, and in the spirit of the rubbish, fragmented post this has turned out to be, I had an email on Monday from Endsleigh Insurance offering me cash in return for a link. I considered it for about twenty seconds and then remembered that small-time blogs with adverts make me cynical and disengaged, and thought better of it. Has anyone else had this offer?
I'll shut up now.
* I just used and/or. I hate that almost as much as I hate people who say "24/7" or "back in the day". Sorry about that.
** Clearly we are in the grip of just such a situation this evening. Sorry about that.
For one, I'm starting to hate the term "blogging". It makes people roll their eyes and dismiss the writing on blogs as amateurish narcissistic waffling about What I Did At The Weekend, and How I Feel About My Life, which is utter rubbish as some of the funniest and/or* most moving things I've read have been on blogs. Janet Street Porter can kiss my lily-white arse - bloggers rule and she's running scared. Buck-toothed witch.
Anyway. I digress.
What I meant to say was that I have developed a small, slightly autistic routine around writing posts for my blog. The way it works is this:
If I am truly stuck, I open a new post and type things and delete them until something sticks**.
Sometimes I am so desperate to write something down that I write a post in my head, and then at the first opportunity write frantic, scribbly notes that I completely fail to decipher later and which result in half-arsed pointless dribblings of the sort that would make Janet Street-Porter feel totally vindicated if she were aware of my existence.
[as a small aside, I am watching telly. There was an advert on just now for a pregnancy test that actually presents the result with the words "pregnant" or "not pregnant". In my personal opinion, if you are so mentally disadvantaged that the appearance of a blue line to confirm the fact is beyond you, your reading skills are likely to be at a level that 1) negate any possible advantage of s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g-i-t-o-u-t-f-o-r-y-o-u and 2) suggest that your level of supervision should preclude that thing which may or may not have got you pregnant in the first place. In my opinion. Which is mine, and that I am entitled to whether you agree with it or not. You know who you are]
At all times I am conscious that the transition from idea to screen is totally, irrationally dependent on my Not Telling Anyone what I am considering writing about. The act of saying "ooh! that would make a brilliant post!" or of someone saying "you really should blog about that, you know" is known in our house as "Killing the Magic".
If it's any consolation, I know what a pretentious twunt this makes me sound. As if you're interested in any of this. I just needed to share. I was thinking about writing about going to see Robbie Williams, you see. I actually composed the post in my head on the way home from the gig, to help block out the absolutely proper fucking dreadful Take That songs that Zanna and Cuppa were subjecting me to. And then I came to write it and found that I had inadvertently killed the magic. Bollocks to it.
Oh, and in the spirit of the rubbish, fragmented post this has turned out to be, I had an email on Monday from Endsleigh Insurance offering me cash in return for a link. I considered it for about twenty seconds and then remembered that small-time blogs with adverts make me cynical and disengaged, and thought better of it. Has anyone else had this offer?
I'll shut up now.
* I just used and/or. I hate that almost as much as I hate people who say "24/7" or "back in the day". Sorry about that.
** Clearly we are in the grip of just such a situation this evening. Sorry about that.
posted by surly girl at 8:51 pm
17 Comments:
Ha!
You used the word 'twunt' I love that word. I've tried to introduce it to America, but with limited success.
Shameless plug...
I have a website. See opacity for details.
i've had emails asking me to promote their "dating" sites, offering me... oh i don't know... something in return... so you attract people who need insurance, i attract men who cant get a girlfriend?
brilliant!
Today I got up, went to work, came home.
My life is Soooooooooooooooo Crazy!!!! My friends say I am Crazy!!!! I do such Crazy Things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm such an interesting blogger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oooh I hope I get a book deal.
He He He! They were great songs and our singing was out of this world.
cash? How much cash?
I'll take it. I've got a trumpet to pay for.
*** It's just how we roll hon !!!
I love your blog, Surly. It was a relief to find it when I first got sucked into this blonking mess, as I'd already spent a worrying week desperately hitting the "Next Blog" button.
But I think blogging just gets too easy after a while. Like writing a whole entry on the bus home in your head. You can do this in your sleep by now. In fact, you probably do, right? You're a great writer and you just need to keep challenging yourself. I know you toyed with the idea of a book before and then turned your back on it, but did you just give up too easily? It doesn't have to be a whole novel. It could be a column or a short story / film or anything.
At least, if you want to make some cash from your writing, why not think about options other than running adverts? I agree about small-time blogs with adverts making people cynical and disengaged. Before you know it, one will lead to 40 and your blog will be a flickering page of deals on thrush creams and crappy insurance ads.
Humbled.
blood spurting from mouth - Biting tongue - boi...
Oh, I was quite happy to take their £400.
(ooh I love stirring it).
I think the test thing should be like scratchcards, and say 'Pregnant' or 'Sorry - try again!'
No-one's offered me money to put stuff on my blog.
Apart from that guy who wanted me to put up nudey pix, but that's another story.
A made-up one.
Endsleigh did me too. I thought for longer than 20 seconds - I mean, thirty quid's thirty quid, right? I was a weany bit flattered that endsleigh thought that I had enought readers to make it worth their while trying to snag one.
But you're right, ads on blogs are shite. It makes you look like one of those desperate entrepreneurial sites. So I told them to fuck off. (Inside my head, obv. In the real world outside my head, I just ignored the email).
The Endsleigh man offered me a couple of ponies for the dream blog which nobody visits anymore.
I think he's a nutter.
are you aware that you write interestingly about things like boredom and not being able to think of anything interesting to say?
that, my dear, is a gift.
I'm with annie rhiannon. i was so damn relieved when i found you after hitting the 'next blog' button.....!
go have some cookies and a cup of coffee. XOO
Heh Heh! Twunt!
I never say anything about blogging either, because then people would know I. Have. A. Blog!
* shudder *
I write virtually all my posts in Word then stick then up later.
Sometimes immediately, sometimes they langusih indefinitely.
(btw nobody wants to give me any money for my blog.)
And yeah, people are sneery about blogs, but they can fuck off. They clearly know nothing.
i find using the word 'blogging' anywhere in the picture to rip the magic. so ungraceful the word. we should invent a new word, like 'lfurking' or something.
empdod - word verif. equally ungrateful
it were horrible.
shake your rudebox.
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