Radio Silence

[msagara]

While reading alicebentley's LJ, I started (and even finished) a comment. But I've been thinking about it all day, and actually, decided I wanted to -- and I know this will come as a shock to everyone -- say more.

alicebentley talks about posting on LJ, and in particular, about the difficulties she has.

Most commonly, I realize the thing I planned to write about is so trivial and unremarkable that it doesn't warrant bringing up. (1)

Or the topic is about something that upset me - and writing about it is also upsetting. And I don't like to be upset, so I stop. (2)

Recently there have been several cases where I really want to comment on someone else's post, but I don't feel like I'm close enough to them to make the sort of personal remarks their subject calls for. (3)

(I added the numbers beside the comments; the comments are otherwise quoted.)


(1)
I saw myself in all of this, and I wanted to address some of it here, starting with the first point. I fell into an enormous radio silence for mumble mumble time because I felt that I had nothing at all left to contribute. I had posted about various publishing things, as related to a bookseller-eye-view; I had posted the entirety of my first book contract, with some discussion about the legalese of the teeny-tiny-type clauses. I did both because I was busy talking elsewhere about both, and I wanted to make sure that people understood my frame of reference.

But once I'd finished, I wasn't entirely sure I had more to say. I understood the value of what I'd talked about up to that point, which is why it wasn't difficult. I didn't see the value in anything else that I might talk about after that. So. There was a lot of starting-and-stopping of various comments, a lot of deletion of half-finished files, and a lot of silence.

I did read LJ from time to time, but in general, anything I wanted to add to a conversation had already been added, and I'm not often a big 'me too' poster, although I don't mind it when others do it.

And I missed a lot of very interesting conversation because of this reticence, and I regret it.

I've said before, and will no doubt say again, that I like LJ because it's like one big, rambling, splintering conversation. It's hard, however, to just stand like an eavesdropper at the edge of conversation without eventually feeling that you're taking without giving.

What got me out of this? Two things. Realizing that, in fact, I liked many of the small, and possibly trivial posts that did not somehow impart vital information as a reader. Could I predict what I'd find interesting? Well, no.

But I don't find anyone, not even John Scalzi interesting 100% of the time. I love his site and his blog, but some of the stuff doesn't interest me. It doesn't have to. It interests people who are not me, and I know that later today or tomorrow, he will write something that will make me laugh or cringe or think. I don't stop reading him when I find something that he's clearly nuts about irrelevant to me.

So I had to give myself permission to be boring. I had to give myself permission to be irrelevant. This, of course, was harder. But what I discovered was that some of what I post, which is largely information-free, is actually interesting to people who are not me as well. Some of it will start discussions and conversations that--obviously--would not occur on the inside of my own head. I'm never entirely certain about anything I write; I suppose, in that frame, LJ shouldn't be any different and I shouldn't expect it to be.

All this just to say: I write about what interests me and hope people will find it. There's always the chance that I will lose people if everything I post doesn't interest them--but that's fine, too. Because I can't actually write about things that don't interest me, and I shouldn't have to; they don't want to read things that don't interest them, and also, shouldn't have to. In that sense, it's not personal.

(2)
I don't generally have a problem writing about things that upset me, because I admit that if I'm upset, those things are uppermost in my mind. It doesn't upset me to write about them because clearly if I'm writing (where in this case writing=pounding the hell out of the poor, innocent keyboard), I'm already upset.

However... (you knew there was a 'but'): Posting about things that upset me is tricky because I tend to be slightly intemperate when I'm upset, angry, or annoyed. My husband can generally tell when I'm annoyed or angry, and he will drift into the room following the sound of the aforementioned typing (he says it's distinctly different than my normal writing. Possibly because of the speed). He will point out when what I'm writing is not, in fact, a bomb, but rather a nuke, and remind me that even when I'm annoyed, the writing should serve some purpose that is not to blow a large crater in the landscape in which I am also standing.

So in general, I will type everything, and he will read it, and tell me what is reasonable and what is perhaps entirely unreasonable. He's my external editor, and I value him highly. He doesn't by any means tell me to jettison everything, and I have certainly posted about things in a more heated fashion -- but I don't post everything.

Sometimes I don't post things that he thinks are on point because after I've done the writing, I'm calmer, and I can evaluate what the effect of it will be. And long arguments on the internet--many of which I read and many of which are illuminating--take an enormous amount of time, processing thought, and self-control.

And when I'm engaged in this mindset, I find it very hard to concentrate on fiction writing. If I do this enough, it throttles any productivity, and books grind to a halt in the heat, while deadlines inch ahead of me in ways that will (sadly, later) induce ulcers and panic.

On the other hand? Angry people seldom bore other people. It's something to consider.

(3)
This is the one that is the hardest, for me, and it isn't even about the content of my LJ and whether or not it's interesting enough.

In this, as in the first point, I am entirely in alicebentley's shoes. A number of people read this LJ, and I read a number of LJs. Some of these are friends-locked posts. I understand that in part I'm responding to the LJ concept of 'friend', and enough has been said about it that I won't add to it here. Suffice it to say, however, that I don't like the weight of the term they've chosen.

If someone posts something that is friends-locked, and it's of a personal nature, and I feel I have something to contribute that no one else has said... I will often just stare blankly at the screen, with my hands hovering over the keyboard, because on some level I feel as if I'm reading this by accident and that any commentary I have to offer will be totally intrusive and possibly an unwelcome reminder of this fact.

Someone posted a friends-locked entry about her three year old child. (I won't say who, because, well, friends-locked). I read the entry, because she was asking for possible clues as to what the behaviour of her child meant--and I thought, "Wow, that sounds like my kids when they had ear infections". But... I didn't post it because I felt self-conscious, and a while later, she posted to say... it was an ear infection.

And I felt like a totally useless idiot. So I kicked myself, because I should have said something. And I didn't. Because I was afraid of how it might look.

But this taught me something, or reminded me of something I should already know, and I do comment now, regardless of protected status, if I feel I have something to say that someone hasn't already said.

I don't post anything that's friends-locked. Anything I post is public, and anything I talk about is fair game for any commentary. I don't mind if someone I've never seen or read pops up in comments to say something or add to the conversation, and I never have. So I also try to remember this when it comes to posts in other people's journals, because people are probably just like me in this regard.

(4)
I will add one to this: the topic is personal, but it's not just about me, and while I'm perfectly happy to ramble on about things in my own life, I don't feel that I own the lives of the people certain subjects intersect. So in those cases, where my experiences would be of interest (or at least I think they would), I mute myself because there's no way to disguise the names of the other people whose experience it also is.

So: Radio Silence. It's something I still struggle with -- but I write at home, in isolation, and the sense of community is important enough that the struggle to over-ride my initial impulse is necessary.

Comments

[crookedfeet.livejournal.com]

I struggle with this myself. I often feel it's boring, or pointless, and why am I taking people's time and attention etc. I'd post book reviews, but then I think-no, that author's on lj-I'd better not(whether it's positive or negative. Thanks for posting this-it has given me food for thought.