In case anyone’s interested, this illustration is the album art for “All Our Favorite Stories” by Dog Is Dead (often shortened to D.I.D.). I recommend listening if you’re into indie rock music.
Pshh. What… are you scared of entering a virtually endless, ever-changing, pitch black labyrinth of rooms, hallways, and and giant, abyssal staircases…? And all the while you find your mind deteriorating further and further as you venture deeper and deeper—and eventually attempt to escape—the bowels of your eldritch prison before it consumes you entirely???
This has me thinking about the fact that a wormhole could potentially open up in front of you while walking/driving one day and spit you out halfway across the galaxy before collapsing. Maybe even that some of those stories about people who vanished without a trace had this happen to them.
A warning. Those who speak too deeply and become engrossed in conversations too long will fall prey to the machinations of dimensional altering creatures. Beware the conversationalist, for they are an agent of gibbering star madness.
It will never occur if no new voices tried their first podcast.
I still want to hear more about my niches. How to elicit kind responses from others. How to more effectively teach others. How to communicate. I want to hear from disparate sources in different styles. I want to hear people who are skilled at creating a natural environment to put their guests at ease. I want to hear passionate people. I want to hear voices that haven’t been heard yet, and will transform the current podcast into something better.
The internet was not impressive overnight. It became impressive after many voices added themselves to the mix. We really don’t need more websites… except that one that doesn’t exist yet.
It takes more experience to understand why. Just keep at it. In a year you’ll look back at your previous work and cringe with how bad it was, but you’ll understand exactly what makes it bad, and with determination and self-education, you won’t be making those mistakes anymore.
My problem is more of a “you pretentious douche, who the hell would care to consume what you produce?”
I write like 2 sentences and then those thoughts start and it sucks all the motivation out of me because I just feel like a fool. Like I get people write books and people like to read them, but I can’t help but feel like an absolute toolbag for even trying to write.
If you keep talking, I can’t stop listening, but I can always stop reading. That’s why I sit in silence at work, but online, I have an opinion for a ton of stuff. Including on what you just prompted me to say.
I write for the pleasure of me. If I manage to make even a bit of sense while doing so, even better.
I think a lot of creative types don’t get over that, but I know some start by doing it for themselves and then it’s just a bonus if anyone else likes it.
Thats kept me from blogging really. It seems…conceited ?
But I’ve reframed it in my head and blog about things just so I remember them or post recipes so they are easier to find and pull up. My site is like my “scratch notes”. If someone else finds it helpful, cool. Its more for me to have a place where I can go look up things I did with my homelab or send a link to my wife so she can make the beef stew we like.
I know it’s way easier said than done. But as someone who has just finally after 30+ years started to shut those voices up by focusing on something I wanted, not what I thought someone else would enjoy. And it’s helped me keep those voices at bay. It’s hard not to care and not to want the thing you make to be successful and for other people to like it. I may still never publish something. But the time I spend thinking about that world and those stories is a happy and fun place to be, simply because I like it there and not because I think anyone else will. I hope that made any amount of sense.
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