blogging | tworockchronicles

I’m back. In an increasingly complex world, I’ve decided that my place in “social media” should be a direct, and honest reflection of who I am and what my values are. You can sort that all out by reading between the lines of my stories.

I fell away from blogging because the pressures of daily life, in particular of elder care, injuries and of the daily onslaught of prevarication from the press, drove me to endless dithering. In its place, I’m ashamed to say, I adopted a Facebook approach. I coasted through the drivel to find compatriots who seemed as disenfranchized as I felt…and bounced in the echo chamber. Finally, overwhelmed by the polarization, I started posting art. Posting beauty seemed like a balm for the ages and I attracted a group of like-minded folk who saw some measure of salvation in something as basic as a daily dose of beauty. But, in the end, it’s not enough.

I cannot ignore, or abide, the fact that my sweet backwater of beauty ultimately was lining the pockets of the very folk undermining democracy and monetizing the demise of our environment, of our very planet. I have to step away from the dopamine delivery system—the addiction of social media. To be true to my values, I have to strike out on my own, to reach out and create community, to be subversive by being authenic. So, I’m back.

I am retreating from those platforms that are toadying to power. The anticipatory capitulation to the dark side, the vast amounts of untraceable money funneled to curry favor, all funded by our own consumer dollars (or by the sale of our data), was making me sick at heart. No more. I’m finding new outlets for news and information. I’m abandoning the soul-sucking click bait world. No amount of daily beauty can undo the damage of the robber barons of tech.

I note that during this sojourn into social media addiction, my writing came to a halt. Indeed, other than gardening or building (because Rick and I are always building), my creative energies dried up completely. It is my hope that returning to a more authentic avenue of engagement, that will come back. In fact, since I made the decision (round about the time the tech bros all donated to the coronation), I’ve returned to my long neglected novel. Who knows where this will lead?

If you’ve been with me from before, or if you’ve joined me because of my invitation on the way out the door of Facebook, I hope you’ll see this as a way to participate, comment, criticize or applaud the taking back our time for something more genuine than the latest meme. There are certainly parts I’ll miss. But connecting with real people and sharing viewpoints outside of the silos, is something I’m looking forward to. It’s a little like coming home.

(To get a “comment” prompt, click the blog title and scroll to the bottom.)

Now Ya Tell Me

(Not that I shouldn’t have noticed)

A.V. Walters

I’ve just logged over a year of blogging, and I‘ve been looking for a way to commemorate the passage, accounting for it, now that I’m no longer a newbie. The assessment isn’t an easy one. I broke my own rule when I started. Usually when I begin a new endeavor, I first ask myself the critical question—what’s the objective? If you don’t do that, then you’re left with no way to measure the results.

I confess that I blogged because people kept telling me I had to do it. I’d already self-published my first novel, (The Emma Caites Way) with another in the pipeline, and my writing compatriots kept saying, “You need an online presence, you need to blog.” Because I have privacy issues, I have steadfastly resisted having anything to do with Facebook. I can’t bring myself to hand over my personally identifiable information to a company hell-bent on constantly changing the ground rules, and often without meaningful notice. (Now they tell me that I’m suspect because of my failure to have a Facebook page!) Maybe I’m just old-fashioned.

Conventional wisdom told me I had to have a presence; I had to play the game. It was, they said, the way to sell books. So I gave in and blogged. It’s been like starting out on a journey without a clear destination, a little bit of a ramble, but if you pay attention along the way, not without its rewards. I’ve come to realize that I enjoy blogging. It gives voice to my gardener, rural alter-ego, something I haven’t explored in my other writing. I’ve come to know some wonderful people (and a few, slightly off-center) along the way—all over the globe. Who knew? But I cannot say that the blog has sold a single book. If it has, there’s certainly no evidence of it.

I follow a number of other bloggers. Many of them are gardeners, science geeks, or (like me) wannabee writers. I think we quietly blog for each other, lulled into the rhythms of it, like a very exclusive, private club.

Maybe I’m a failure as a blogger. But this week I made a discovery. I regularly read the newsletter from CreateSpace. I especially read anything by Joel Friedlander. He’s affiliated with BAIPA (Bay Area Independent Publishers Association) where I’m a member (and an award winner for The Emma Caites Way—Hey, it’s all about self-promotion, isn’t it?) His presentations are always informative and substantive. So after reading his headline article this month, I clicked on another selection, Is Blogging Good for Fiction Writers? (https://www.createspace.com/en/community/docs/DOC-2031)

Oh my! He nailed me (and many of you, as well.) I’ve been blogging away for a year, apparently without a clue. Yes, most of my readers are other struggling fiction authors; and yes, many of the blogs I follow are self-publishers and writers. Since my books (Yes, I finished and published the second one, The Gift of Guylaine Claire, and a third is in the works), don’t have a clearly defined, common theme, (and if they did, it’s not what’s in my blog) this lovely ramble has been just that. It’s a clear demonstration of the blind leading the blind. And, given the fiction writer’s conundrum, a blog isn’t likely to achieve any results beyond that warm and fuzzy sense of community that I’ve come to enjoy.

I’m not sure where this all leads. I can’t imagine abandoning the blog after all this—after all, there are relationships in it now. All I can say is, Now ya tell me!

Complicit

Now Ya Tell Me