This blog is undergoing something of an identity crisis. When I first started it, it was supposed to be a venue for my fiction (shameless plug for new readers: Sucide and Keg Stands -- Short Stories). I've since learned that I write fiction at a somewhat glacial pace, which doesn't work for internet publishing.
So I started to write about the things I see in my job. Working for a startup like Rudius, where you're in before there's even a ground floor, is a cool experience. There's no culture, there are no processes, there's no right way to do things, there aren't really even day to day responsibilities. There's just a pile of work that has to get done and what has to get done changes week to week. I wanted to write about all the things I see out there in the world. All the mistakes and missteps that other companies, with older more and more entrenched corporate cultures making. I wanted a record of all the things I didn't want this company to do or become. An open notebook of how to create a company you could believe in.
When I got back from Alaska, I sat down at my computer to start to get caught up on two weeks worth of email and assorted bullshit and one of the first things I read in my rss reader was a comparison on how friendfeed is beating twitter and what twitter should do about it. I remember thinking, as I read down the article, "what a fucking douchebag, does anyone really give a shit about this?" It was like reading an article comparing a hammer and a screwdriver. I'm not really interested in hammers and screwdrivers. I'm interested in what you can do with a hammer or a screwdriver. I'm interested in the bookshelves you can build or the doorframe you can fix.
And so I'm going to try and give up my punditry. The urge will always be there, to comment on things I'm not directly involved in, but I'm going to do my best not to. I'd rather be creating something, not commenting on what others are creating.
Here's where the identity crisis comes in. I'm still writing fiction, it's my first love and until someone wants to pay me for it and put my stories in a pretty book, I'll be publishing it here. But as we've seen, it's not enough to sustain a blog.
I give a lot of advice on this blog. Like don't be afraid to suck. And to my friends, like let your writing evolve and get used to public life. Now it's time to see if I can follow that advice.
In the past I haven't been able to. I've been writing on the internet for 10+ years and I've got almost nothing to show for it. There are a number of reasons for that but mostly I was unwilling to put in the work. I'd get really excited about some project, work at it religiously for six months, then my enthusiasm would start to flag, posts would become infrequent and eventually I'd abandon it all together. Then six months later I'd start all over again, under a different name on a different hosting service. It's kind of a shame. In ten years I wrote some really good stuff (and a lot more really bad stuff) and it's gone. I really admire someone like danah boyd who's got 11 years of her writing online. It takes a lot of guts to be able to do that.
So now that I'm at somewhat of a crossroads, instead of shutting this place down, retooling it and launching again with what I think will work, I'm going to let it evolve and see what ends up working. I'm not going to delete the posts I think are subpar. I'm not going to try and restart this thing so it's all polished and perfect. I'm going to (maybe for the first time) follow my own advice and see where it gets me.
Posted by Ben Corman at 3:20 PM