What if we stopped writing for the whole internet?

Writing5 Comments

I’ve been “blogging” for twelve years this year. The breadcrumbs are small. In fact, you’re not likely to find them under the last name of Farough. But they existed at one point. I was never one for analog journalling — it bothered me that I had to do it every day to be effective at it. Most of the time, I felt like a failure for not keeping up with it, especially when I was practicing music and theatre (sometimes together) for a serious stretch of time every day.

Through the years I’ve been online, I’ve watched bloggers come and go. I’ve watched internet marketing hit its stride and be brought before the tribunal of tribal marketing, only to be set on fire and sent on its not-so-merry way. I’ve listened to people tout their expertise about building blogs and followers and lists.

I’m cognizant that I don’t do this “correctly”.

I write sporadically.

Most of the time, I’m not even sure I have a topic. But I write and sometimes people read it.

I started working with a particularly brilliant writer about a month ago. We sat down and talked on Skype a week ago and she told me what she wanted to write about was boxes. Not literal boxes, mind you. But the boxes we put ourselves in — either to fit in or to stand out. We’re categorized and filed and desperate for something.

Anything.

So, we create and curate our Selves on the internet — trying to put our best face forward. That picture you see over there? That’s been edited for colour, texture, and blemishes. There aren’t too many pictures of me that you’ll find that haven’t been meticulously crafted to show my best angles and my best features.

We’re overwrought with perfectionism, because the media is spoon-feeding us our daily dose of impossible. I mean, even porn stars don’t look like porn stars until the makeup artists are done with them. What chance do we, the plebeian masses, have?

So.

Why create anything at all if no one is going to read it or consume it? Why get out of bed and go to work if no one gave a damn if we were there or not? Why live if we’re not going to be acknowledged?

We all want to be seen. We’re hungry for it.

But.

Why not strive for value?

Instead of pandering to mass markets or, hell, niche markets: why not strive to create value in the online sphere? What do you, as a writer and creator, want to see? Do you think that the great innovators in the world went out and polled their people to see what they wanted to see? Or did they ask themselves, “Wouldn’t this be cool? Let’s do it!”

  • What if we stopped writing for an audience?
  • What if we stopped creating to get paid for it?
  • What if we stopped making noise and started making art?

The next time that you sit down at your blog, your canvas, your altar of creation, ask yourself, “Why?”

  • What compels you?
  • The prestige? The paycheque? The power?
  • Or the chance to add real value in this value-hungry world?

If no one read anything I wrote ever again, I’d still sit down at my computer from time to time and wax poetic about whatever’s crawling around in my skull at the time. If no one saw anything I designed, I’d still sketch wireframes and concepts until my eyes fell out. If no one acknowledged my worth, I’d still add my voice to the pool and create the value that I want to see in the world.

How about you?

How not to be a jerk on the internet

Nerdism9 Comments

There comes a time when a girl just has to say, “Enough is enough.” And, I’ve gotta say, I’m kind of over this whole “being a jerk on the internet is fun!” bit. It’s old, people. Really, really old.

Back in the early days of the ‘net, we had this little thing called Netiquette. For those of you who have been around the interwebs for a seriously long period of time (read: pre-2000 era), you’ll probably remember Netiquette. It was the precursor to Wheaton’s Law. It was the way we self-governed the way we behaved online, especially in forums and message boards.

Netiquette mostly applied to USENET and email but was soon adopted by online communities all over the place. They adapted the terminology to make sense for their people. You had to abide by the rules or you were digitally excommunicated. As in, “So long, jerk. We don’t need the likes of you in our community.”

These days, netiquette is a relic. Trolling — essentially starting a flamewar or deliberately baiting someone into having a fight with you online — has become the way we interact with one another. I don’t like what you said, therefore you’re a raging moron. Instead of digital banishment, these people are met with, “Oh, it doesn’t matter what you say online. Freedom of speech and all that.”

Freedom of speech has become a way for angry people to justify ugly words. End of story.

It’s not about freedom anymore, people. It’s about lack thereof. I should be free to engage a community without fear of someone coming in and saying, “Yes, but you’re a frakking idiot. Die in a grease fire, kthx.” When we justify this behaviour by saying that it’s simply the way the internet is, we’re ignoring the bigger issue: we are teaching ourselves and our online communities that it’s okay to say horrible things on the internet, because you’ll never get caught.

I’ve briefly talked about digital enlightenment before. Now I’m going to get all Digital Priestess on you.

This part of internet culture has to die before we can evolve into a higher state of digital existence.

Growing up, my parents (and your parents, more than likely) taught me that if I had nothing nice to say, then I should just hold my tongue. Caustic language doesn’t help anyone. We are going to disagree on the internet. In fact, we may have had our disagreements already. It’s only when we abide by nasty language and angry tonality that we find ourselves mired in the trenches. 

You can have a disagreement without resorting to petty name-calling.

It’s not good enough to ignore trolls anymore. We have to take an active stance against them.

I recently left the game journalism world after it became apparent that I was writing for a community (the online community that makes up those who consume game writing, not necessarily the website that I was at) that was riddled with hate-mongers and trolls. In protest, I stopped writing. I stopped creating content for people who wouldn’t appreciate my unique point of view. And I eventually left to lend my voice to other things.

If you or someone you know is struggling with not being a jerk on the internet, point ‘em here.

How not to be a jerk on the internet.

Before you post a comment, blog post, Facebook update, or tweet, ask yourself:

  • “Is this something that I would say in person?” If it’s not, don’t type it.
  • “Would I be okay with my parents reading this?” If it’s not, consider not posting it. (Writers get a free-pass on this one, since a lot of our writing isn’t okay for our parents to read. And that’s okay.)
  • “Am I okay with this being on the internet forever?” If you’re not, don’t post it. The internet has a long, long memory.
  • “Would I be okay hearing this from someone else?” If you wouldn’t be, definitely don’t post it.
  • “Does this contribute to a greater understanding of this topic?” This is mostly relevant for posting a comment on a blog or thread in a forum. If you’re posting just so you can “hear yourself talk”, don’t. Be a musician, not a noise-maker.

It’s not okay to hide behind the guise of the internet anymore, people. Anonymity isn’t an excuse to act like a douchecanoe. 

A totally radtastic list of things I genuinely suck at

Biznez, Inner Monologue3 Comments

Copping to our insecurities, failures, lameness, and overall “OMGSUCK” can be hard. Requires complete honesty with ourselves and with everyone else, for that matter. Danielle’s latest Burning Question is “What do you suck at?” I find it funny when people say to me, “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Um. Definitely.

Now, I’m going to prove it. With words. Like a Big Girl.

The (sometimes) comprehensive list of things that I really, really suck at.

Being quiet. I make everything really, really loud without meaning to. When I’m feeling especially vulnerable, I overcompensate by talking quickly and loudly… usually with those Italian hand-gestures that make people go, “Whoa. She’s, um, nuts.”

Taking criticism. I take things to heart really easily. I live with my heart on my sleeve so it’s easy to poke at it without meaning to. (I say I’m totally bad-ass… but I’m actually extremely squishy.)

Living in the moment. I’m usually living in the past or in the future. It’s a rare occurrence for me to be able to put things aside long enough to be IN the present. I’m into planning and reminiscing. (But I’m getting better.)

Being patient. I was reminded, not so gently, that I am in fact almost twenty-six years old. Not only that, but I was reminded of the Great Things I’ve accomplished in said time. Inwardly, I scoffed and said, “I’m about five years behind in my overall Life Scheme. Except with this baby situation. I’m running about five years ahead on that one.” When I see book deals and speaking gigs, I don’t think, “Okay, I need more experience and/or years until people start paying attention.” Instead, I think to myself, “Why the hell isn’t this happening for me yet? I’m 26 for crying out loud! Practically dead!” (Yeah. Irrational Amanda is irrational.)

Cooking. I’m not a cook. I’m a terrible cook. I don’t have the patience (see above) to wait for things to finish cooking. I’m hungry now, damn it. I am, however, an awesome baker, as baking requires more investment in time up-front but less investment during. Prep, set timer, do work, check baking, let baking cool, nom nom nom. (Often rinse and repeat.)

Deliverables. Until I set myself up with my project management software, I would often full-on forget entire pieces of a project. I’d be all, “Nah. I’ll remember everything. I’m basically the digital elephant over here!” Not so much. Got worse when I became a mom. To combat the effects of both mommy and pregnancy brain, I now have to use Basecamp to meticulously keep track of files, deliverables, and messages so that I don’t miss anything.

Temperance. It’s funny to think that I’m not exactly a temperate creature, considering that my dad and I founded a World of Warcraft Guild called “Temperance”. I’m all-or-nothing. Black and white. On or off. Full-throttle or brakes. Head-first or burnt-out. It’s a problem.

Relinquishing control. I like to think I’m a pretty easy-going person. But the truth is that I have to work at letting go and relinquishing control. Changing business models from solopreneur to digital collective/agency was a Big Decision. Bringing in a Logistics Commander (or VA or whatever else you wanna call my Mana) to handle the tasks that I didn’t have time for scared the living bejeebus outta me. But once I did? Oh man, what a difference!

Working out. Y’know what? I hate working out. I don’t like treadmills or Elliptical machines or stationary bikes. I can’t stand the thought of waking up early so that I can go for a run. Working up a cardiovascular sweat skeeves me out. The only exception is dancing. I love to dance. (Which is why I’m falling in love with Zumba and Bollywood dancing.)

Math. Yeah, I know. I’m such a weird human, but such a lady cliche. First: I have a background in computers. Second: I’m terrible at math. Third: one of these things is not like the other one? Mythbusted: you don’t need to be an amazing mathematician to be an awesome code-monkey… but it helps to pay a first-rate tutor in high school and university.

That rounds out the top ten.

There are quite a few things that I’m just not very good at. If people ask me to calm down or be patient, I get louder and more impatient. Take control outta my hands and I’ll have a colossal freak-out. Put me in a room of sweaty, willowy bodies and I will panic. The real clincher is asking me to cook — I will only cook for you if I really, really love you… because I know you’ll love me, even if it’s rancid.

Shields are down, captain. Your turn.