ON SOCIALISING

So, you know how, as you get older and accumulate friends, relationships and so forth, you stop being the architect of everything you do?

(Let's disregard the probability that you were never really independent - it was just an illusion that you allow to flatter your sense of self).

What happens is: you start having obligations. 'I've got to go to this thing because X has Y connection with A, B & C.' At first, they're small blips in an otherwise self-directed life. Then one day you turn around and notice: going to parties/things with people you barely know is your only social life.

Moreover, you realise you have known these people for a very long time and see them more regularly than people you're ostensibly closer to. Then you think: 'But I'm not actually close to any of them. These are just familiar faces in a room. I'm not even sure I like this room. I prefer the one at home. Just because I recognise these people doesn't mean we have anything to talk about. In fact, I think we exhausted our conversational reserves sixteen years ago, when we met. Oh God, I'm hungry. Better drink more. No, that's not a good idea. Too late.'

So what I'm saying is: does anyone else ever find themselves thinking: 'this is like going to a Christmas party for a job I left five years ago'?

Fiddling

Dunno about this, but wasn't really happy with the narrow columns of the earlier layout. It also meant every single embedded video had to be resized, which is a huge pain.

Maybe I should switch to Wordpress and create a proper site.

Sigh.

More writerly geekery, embedded video & links

So, I'm a big fan of a writer called Neal Stephenson, as anyone who's delved into the darker recesses of this blog archive will know. He writes long books that are complex and (I think) tell good yarns, but perhaps readers of Ian McEwan (for instance) may find them off-putting. However, given my views of that author's books, particularly Atonement and Saturday it may not be so very surprising.

Anyway.

Google, in their infinite wisdom, have an ongoing series of talks for authors, helpfully called Authors@Google, in which unkempt introverts discuss the voices that chatter inside their heads and how that pays the bills. There are lots of writers on the YouTube channel - go have a look. I don't check it regularly, but it turns out Stephenson did a Q&A at Google HQ last September as part of the book tour for Anathem, his most recent work.

I found it fascinating. You might also. You might not, in which case you have my apologies. Perhaps you may need to consider reading another blog. There are quite a few about, I hear.

Here's Neal Stephenson:

- With thanks to Harry, who I would link to, if he'd ever hurry up and get published, or start a blog, or something.

Quick post to remind myself that I'm still alive

Right then.

I lied in that last post. Clearly I'm a liability in front of a laptop. Or behind one. I did send off a few of those, ever so delicately labelled, query letters, and received one reply. SO FAR.

Ahem.

Anyway I've sent a collection of pages, linked, if not by a terribly well-organised story, then at least some seriously impressive staples. I figure if they aren't blown away by the prose, there's a chance of an opening in the stationery department.

I shall no doubt maintain an eerie and mysterious silence about what happens next, unless someone starts offering me lots of money, in which case you'd better get some sleep now.

Okay, well, this post hasn't really been about anything, but let's see if I can start some sort of a habit here.

Breaking the Internet, part the second

This isn't really my first post, as I set one up on WordPress the other week. But contrary to my ill-conceived notions, WordPress is a bit of a bitch to fiddle with unless you know an awful lot more than me about HTML, CSS and all that fun stuff.

However, it looks as though Blogger might just be able to let me pretend like I know what I'm doing. I'm now going to post some blogs that I made earlier. To break in the blog, as it were...