First, I want to say that I love being a writer. Except when I don’t.
Right now I’m working a couple of novels and a true crime book that is kicking my…well, you know. I’m 40+ pages into the true crime book, am pretty comfortable with all of the material (that’s where my time as a trial lawyer is proving helpful) but I can’t get an outline completed that I like and don’t really want to just do the thing in a linear fashion. Plus, unlike my usual stuff, when the facts don’t cooperate I can’t just make stuff up and trudge on.
I’m not a big fan of silence when I write although I don’t really want to talk, I usually play movies or music videos on one of the computer screens and work on the other and that’s what I’m doing today as I try to break my writer’s block and wait for my muse to show up.
My video playlist is extremely varied, as are my musical tastes. One video mght be Blue Oyster Cult and the next one a tune by Ma Rainey (blues artist from the 30s). The Sex Pistols are on there as is N.W.A.
On this particular day Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night” popped up (I don’t care, it’s a funny video, I’ll insert it below) and there’s a stanza in there that I just love:
Pictures of last night
Ended up online
It’s a blacked out blur
But I’m pretty sure
It was particularly interesting because last night Karren and I watched Terminator Genisys, which is about how Skynet takes over and destroys the world because of everybody wanting to be online all the time.
Social media is great in a lot of ways. It allows me to unilaterally talk to my fans, to friends, and to meet new people all over the world. I’ve got several writer “friends” across the world that I likely would have never had the chance to interact with absent Facebook. There are others who aren’t writers but are friends because I asked or they asked and they seemed interesting (and it turns out they are!).
But I am so, so glad social media didn’t exist during those years before I settled down and particularly in high school. I have to temper what I put on my blog and elsewhere because I know my Mom and my kids read it. Mom would probably still have a stroke if she knew all of the misadventures I’d pursued and the kids (adults now) would regard it either as permission or hypocrisy that what I did and what I told them not to do are polar opposites.
But the good thing about being a writer is that I can stick some of the memories into a book somewhere and people (at least the ones who weren’t there) won’t know if I made it up or if it is a bit of personal history.
I can’t fathom why so many people, my age and younger, have the inclination and want to take the time and effort to put their entire lives online for others to see.
I know I wouldn’t have done it but I also know I probably had some acquaintances who would have and likely my endeavors would have been chronicled just because I was there. There was one party where friends woke up in the front yard the next day, plus the dog had vomit all over him and even he looked ashamed (the dog, not the friend).
The thought of having all of that preserved for posterity anywhere other than my mind just makes me shiver.