Wednesday, August 24, 2005

I Have Been Slimed

Blog.
Bleah.
Everyone seems to compulsively comment on this, so I thought I would get it out of the way.
Suggests the primordial slime, the primeval swamp. Sludge. Ooze.
Ugly word.
Accurate though.
Navigating blogs, we soon realize that some of us soup-swimmers are amoebic protozoa who will never crawl out of the slime and develope as proseus erectus, ie. real writers.
Some blogs make us want to crawl under our computer table and haul our monitor over our head, because their brilliant, witty prose clearly marks the shore line.
You wonder if you'll even make it as far as rotifer.
And I think I've beaten that particular analogy to death. Besides, I don't really like biology of that type.
You learn a lot reading blogs.
You learn that many writers have really cute children. Many writers have even cuter pets. Many writers have really, really cute dancing icons. I like the one with the teeth.
Some have mood indicators and associated musical accompaniment, usually by artists I never heard of. Blogging is a multi-sensual experience. It's , like, so now.
And you realize you are not.
And you can blog publishers, and editors and agents.
Like a pup nosing the floor for cookie crumbs, you pick up odd bits and pieces about the aforesaid publishers, editors and agents.
You are naif.
It frightens you.
It frightens you that the editor of a certain...um...genre, at a certain targeted publishing house is apparently Miss Chic-Lit herself. Young. With it. Very uber cool. And your heroine is over thirty - hell, she's over forty. Doom.
It frightens you that other editors write passionate, clever, graceful agitprop. And your heroine belongs to the militant middle. Doom-di-doom.
It frightens you that certain editors and agents are flogging their own books. The verb is both apt and accurate here. How will they have time or interest in you? Doom-di-doom-doom.
It frightens you to learn that agents and editors put little tickers in their submission requirements, justifying this head game by saying they only want writers who really read - genuflect - carefully. This is like the "the the" spot-the-mistake exercise. You know that the standard advice on submissions indicates the name/address/word count goes on the left side of the title page, but one publisher so innocently asks for it on the right. That you despise head games is irrelevant. DOOM.
You feel like a scraeling.
Then you read blogs by straightforward, direct agents and editors.
You reflect on Momma's platitude that a little knowledge is a dangerous, dangerous thing.
You keep swimming.

7 comments:

hero protagonist said...

To me, blog strikes me as humorous and nonsensical. Precisely the sort of word I enjoy, actually.

No slimy connotations whatever.

Different interpretations for different individuals, eh what?

Cheers.

Bernita said...

Not really.
I was just weilding the "vorpal blade."
Godd morning, my dear.

hero protagonist said...

Vorpal blade!

Shades of Baldur's Gate, and other fascinating realms, to which I frequently travel in my imagination to escape my assigned place of work, this lonely cellar, buried deep beneath the Lumpen Literati tower.

But blades, you say!

Yes!

I favour the mighty Carsomyr +6 and the Hallowed Redeemer.

But please tell no one of this fancy, especially my supervisor, the cretinish Overeditor, Peter Principle lll, for he already makes my life a misery....

Annalee Blysse said...

I was kind of thinking about some of these things today. I learned that some people have blogs because the seem to want people to click through on the Google Ads.

Bernita said...

Thank you for stopping by, Annalee, and congratulations on your release. Nice cover.
Your "links" on your profile look interesting and useful, so thank you for that as well.

kmfrontain said...

That was a bitchin' blog post. You're forty something heroine must be awesome. :-)

There. My lame comment to a blog post that I really enjoyed. Keep swimming!

Bernita said...

Glad you did,KM!