I don't read every essay from everyone on here, but I try to catch yours when I see them. I'll read your essays no matter how you present the material. This essay seems to wrestle with the question of who one is in comparison to their message, because that's always the compromise. If I change this word or that word, how does it read to this or that group of people.
Knowing yourself is step one, and you’ve got that down, I don't doubt it from reading your work. Step two is figuring out who the audience is that your work is intended for.
I think that's the real crux of the situation, and I think that's the real compromise of editing. We always write for ourselves, but not everyone is us, so who are we hoping will find our writing. Some people want to reach the most people, some people want to reach the people most like them, and then everyone else is scattered on the spectrum between those two poles.
Deep, thanks. I’m probably deluded but I say things I’m morally obligated to say, specific, in the clearest way possible. The style and length follow by necessity. I can do short. It is usually short for the amount it’s saying, but that’s not obvious to everyone. I don’t leave room for the reader, like a melody that’s good, but a bitch to harmonize with. I KNOW I don’t write to hear myself talk. I say exactly what I intend to convey. I want readers to know they’re not crazy. See how to name problems with precision. See how someone can fully know what matters to themselves and why. I want to write in a way that makes YOU want to write. To recognize the guiltless joy of saying coherent, somewhat novel things that call bullshit on fear, ignorance, and selfishness. Even though I have all three.
"I think literally one other person reads my essays. I’ve learned not to care. I’m going to give it my all anyway and if nobody wants to receive it, that’s on them." It's actually really weird how the algorithms work. I have read some really, really good Substackers who have only 20 subscribers.
I read you, now that I found you. And damn, do I ever get the whole "just when I thought I was onto something, clobber!" thing. Bad plot twists strike again. The worst one for me was that I was on the leading edge of the indie "we don't need no record label" revolution, and the year I released my first CD, there were over 100,000 other independent releases and some of us got swamped, and some of us got drowned. Blub blub. So yeah, that was a hoot. Conversely, I was the first woman to make a solo acoustic guitar (steel string, not nylon) CD and... crickets, except lord the critical acclaim was nice. But it didn't sell because in 1997 "a woman couldn't play like that, she must have cheated" until they saw me live and decided defensive was the way to go. Sigh. Oh well. I was never cut out for a life of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll anyway. I don't have the constitution.
I don't read every essay from everyone on here, but I try to catch yours when I see them. I'll read your essays no matter how you present the material. This essay seems to wrestle with the question of who one is in comparison to their message, because that's always the compromise. If I change this word or that word, how does it read to this or that group of people.
Knowing yourself is step one, and you’ve got that down, I don't doubt it from reading your work. Step two is figuring out who the audience is that your work is intended for.
I think that's the real crux of the situation, and I think that's the real compromise of editing. We always write for ourselves, but not everyone is us, so who are we hoping will find our writing. Some people want to reach the most people, some people want to reach the people most like them, and then everyone else is scattered on the spectrum between those two poles.
Deep, thanks. I’m probably deluded but I say things I’m morally obligated to say, specific, in the clearest way possible. The style and length follow by necessity. I can do short. It is usually short for the amount it’s saying, but that’s not obvious to everyone. I don’t leave room for the reader, like a melody that’s good, but a bitch to harmonize with. I KNOW I don’t write to hear myself talk. I say exactly what I intend to convey. I want readers to know they’re not crazy. See how to name problems with precision. See how someone can fully know what matters to themselves and why. I want to write in a way that makes YOU want to write. To recognize the guiltless joy of saying coherent, somewhat novel things that call bullshit on fear, ignorance, and selfishness. Even though I have all three.
"I think literally one other person reads my essays. I’ve learned not to care. I’m going to give it my all anyway and if nobody wants to receive it, that’s on them." It's actually really weird how the algorithms work. I have read some really, really good Substackers who have only 20 subscribers.
Keep going ❤️
I get it completely. I know who my fans are. Now, I write for the enjoyment I get and to keep my mind going. I am with you.
I read you, now that I found you. And damn, do I ever get the whole "just when I thought I was onto something, clobber!" thing. Bad plot twists strike again. The worst one for me was that I was on the leading edge of the indie "we don't need no record label" revolution, and the year I released my first CD, there were over 100,000 other independent releases and some of us got swamped, and some of us got drowned. Blub blub. So yeah, that was a hoot. Conversely, I was the first woman to make a solo acoustic guitar (steel string, not nylon) CD and... crickets, except lord the critical acclaim was nice. But it didn't sell because in 1997 "a woman couldn't play like that, she must have cheated" until they saw me live and decided defensive was the way to go. Sigh. Oh well. I was never cut out for a life of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll anyway. I don't have the constitution.
https://open.substack.com/pub/stevenberger/p/creation-by-mere-thought?r=1nm0v2&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
This may help