The Pressures of Writing for an Audience
The Hidden Side of Creative Success
Originally written for a content farm, a writing site where being noticed and getting known was all important.
I have a small problem. No, not that. Or the hundred and one humorous suggestions from AI to make my writing really zing. If you applied just half of those, surely a staff pick would be right around the corner.
My problem is this. But before I tell you, because the email notification spoils the surprise, I need to type a load of meaningless waffle first.
That’s better. Quality writing for the internet age.
My problem is this. But before I tell you, because the email notification spoils the surprise, I need to type a load of meaningless waffle first.
That’s better. Quality writing for the internet age.
I have briefly dipped into a rut. Got involved. Started thinking about outcomes. Words on the page, their meaning. People, feelings — all that kind of stuff which never leads anywhere good.
See, it’s much better to just write something. About anything you like, within the usual legal formalities and without offending certain sections of society. Better still, to say “the hell with it” and just go for it.
Maybe that’s what the Dark Web is for. Must apply sometime. They’re probably set up for a more commercial operation these days — sign-up fees and goody bags.
A Dark Web goody bag would be something worth having, I reckon.
In order to break out of my rut, I need to get back to writing for the fun of it, and quickly. Because the point is fun. There is no other point. I’m not changing the world here; I’m typing words on a page for the hell of it.
The money is an excuse. It’s my cover for this sorry affair. My defense. “Oh yes, I spend my time earning money writing articles on the internet.” They usually move away. I can shout after them for quite some distance, but they pretend not to hear.
See, it’s much better to just write something. About anything you like, within the usual legal formalities and without offending certain sections of society. Better still, to say “the hell with it” and just go for it.
Maybe that’s what the Dark Web is for. Must apply sometime. They’re probably set up for a more commercial operation these days — sign-up fees and goody bags.
A Dark Web goody bag would be something worth having, I reckon.
In order to break out of my rut, I need to get back to writing for the fun of it, and quickly. Because the point is fun. There is no other point. I’m not changing the world here; I’m typing words on a page for the hell of it.
The money is an excuse. It’s my cover for this sorry affair. My defense. “Oh yes, I spend my time earning money writing articles on the internet.” They usually move away. I can shout after them for quite some distance, but they pretend not to hear.
When you first join a site, you can say what you like. No one notices. That’s a good thing. Freedom. You can pour out the thing — that thing that sits in your head — and get rid of it. There it is. Job done. Relax for a while.
Mostly, whatever you said flies by in an instant. “Great piece” is the closest you get to a meaningful exchange. And aren’t meaningful exchanges the worst? “What do you mean when you say all firstborns should be killed?”
I don’t know. It just came out at the time. I didn’t really mean it; it’s writing world. Free speech if you want me to get on that high horse.
I’ve been horseback riding once. It was awful. No brakes, not much steering. Damn thing had a mind of its own. I tried imposing my will, but it was a free speech kind of horse. The awkward sort.
Writing into a void is easy. When you suspect the words might actually be read, it gets a little trickier. Do you want to make them laugh or cry? Do you want to explain how to wire a plug? Have you got something to say, to get off your chest?
You start wondering how a reader might react. You start tailoring your words. I know he likes this, and she likes that, so if I carefully put them together — whoa, two cents! What a result.
Now I need to shake off this rut too.
Mostly, whatever you said flies by in an instant. “Great piece” is the closest you get to a meaningful exchange. And aren’t meaningful exchanges the worst? “What do you mean when you say all firstborns should be killed?”
I don’t know. It just came out at the time. I didn’t really mean it; it’s writing world. Free speech if you want me to get on that high horse.
I’ve been horseback riding once. It was awful. No brakes, not much steering. Damn thing had a mind of its own. I tried imposing my will, but it was a free speech kind of horse. The awkward sort.
Writing into a void is easy. When you suspect the words might actually be read, it gets a little trickier. Do you want to make them laugh or cry? Do you want to explain how to wire a plug? Have you got something to say, to get off your chest?
You start wondering how a reader might react. You start tailoring your words. I know he likes this, and she likes that, so if I carefully put them together — whoa, two cents! What a result.
Now I need to shake off this rut too.
I asked ChatGPT what I should do about things. “Top yourself” was unexpected. “Get over it” was a little more reasonable. We agreed to disagree. He said some hurtful things, I threatened to cancel my subscription. It was a draw in my opinion. He offered to write me a thousand words of cleverness, but I declined. It’s up to me to get over this.
Anyway, I see my three minutes are up. That’s the time permitted for reading these days. Don’t ever have a thought that requires a bit longer.
Bella ciao.
Anyway, I see my three minutes are up. That’s the time permitted for reading these days. Don’t ever have a thought that requires a bit longer.
Bella ciao.