You know, I've been doing this for six years now (with some breaks in-between, I know), and I will never for the life of me be able to figure out what it is that prompts people to write to me.
Saturday night, I posted what I thought was an excellent review of the October Project show. I was so impressed with it that I sent it (as well as a couple of other pieces of writing) to an editor at a local paper. I did some nice work on that one; spent my time, even went back and edited it for just the right tone.
I got two e-mails about that entry. I appreciated both, but I was a little bit disappointed that folks weren't impressed with the review itself. I guess when I pour myself into an entry, I want other people to recognize that fact.
Yesterday, I posted pictures of my basement with the quickest, silliest commentary I could, because I was very tired (I'd stayed up until 4:30 am writing a story), and just wanted to get something up on the site.
This morning, I booted up the computer and found twenty e-mails regarding that entry.
Twenty!
I love feedback. I adore it. I just have no earthly idea what makes people respond and what doesn't. I understand the discomfort factor when a journaler writes about something deeply personal. Often times, I don't feel I have the right to comment on someone's journal, because the journey they're taking is a private one, and to get it out to the world is just a way of letting off steam, or keeping something for posterity.
However, I've always encouraged feedback from everybody, and I feel a bit stunned when a picture of some dishes will spark four separate people to write to me directly ("Sell them on eBay!" "Those are pretty, I wish you had the full set," etc.), but an epiphany I've had or some words about success or failure, happiness or hurt will be met with complete silence.
I'm not chiding anyone here. People write when they're comfortable doing so, and that's the way it's always been. It's like my playwriting and fiction writing. The stories I feel are silly little knock-offs; things that can be completed in a couple of hours with very little thought, get the strongest responses. "Shoe Tree" is an excellent example of that, as is "Elephant." Both were written under my own self-imposed duress; I needed an "E" story and an "S" story to fill out Stoplight Stories. Neither one impressed me at all when I wrote them. I found them cute, but a little twee and with very little character development or plot to speak of.
And yet, "Elephant" has been requested off of Story Foundry more than any other of my plays. I get it; it's a cute piece that 15-17 year-old girls can use for auditions. But it's not all that great. The original story is overwritten, digresses way too much, and doesn't really say anything except present a fun, snarky little story about sibling rivalry.
The same thing happened when I wrote an entry which ended with, "I like string." Silly, off-the-cuff remark, and I ended up selling t-shirts that said it.
This isn't bitching. I'm very happy that I occasionally write something that catches on; I just wish I knew what's going to appeal to more people and what won't. I'd be happy to churn out entry after entry of enjoyable, silly entries that get great replies and eventually lead to some sort of interest in my writing from other areas of the writing world. I just don't get it when I write it, and it remains a mystery to me even after the fact.
Take the praise when I get it, I suppose. I just wonder if I'm going in exactly the wrong direction with regards to my writing. I could lighten up the tone, tell funny stories and create more Flash movies about the dogs, and maybe I'd increase in popularity.
I dunno, though. Popularity isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Right now, I feel the expectation is that I'll write something that can be read easily, but not catch on too much on most days, and every once in a while, I'll hit the right nerve, and I'll get a flurry of feedback.
That really isn't too bad. I just wonder if I should try to write some light-hearted, silly stories to submit for publication, rather than torturing myself over what I consider to be Big Ideas.
That'll never happen. I'll always have delusions of grandeur. It's nice, living in that little bubble. It's a happy place.
Patrick's Daily Journal
