Hello and good morning. It’s Thursday (July 14th, 2022), and so it’s time for my normal, usual, regular weekly blog post—as opposed to the semi-daily posts I wrote last Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, and this week on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday so far, in case anyone reading here today didn’t know I was doing them. If you read my weekly blog posts, and if you find my writing either entertaining or morbidly fascinating or some other adjective that makes you want to read more, do feel free to check those out.
Heck, while you’re at it, if you like my writing, why not consider buying and reading some of my actual novels or short stories or collections? You can find all of them on Amazon, and a few of them are also available through Wal-Mart’s website and Books-A-Million as well, I think. If you do happen to read something of mine, please at least rate it afterwards (if through Amazon, anyway), even if you don’t feel like leaving a review. Be brutal, be frank, that’s fine, but please rate if you can.
Okay, that’s got that bit of self-promotion out of the way. Trust me, it’s not an easy thing for me to do. As I think I’ve said before, I’m not very keen on myself as a person—I don’t like to spend time in my own company, but I don’t have much choice about doing so, though there are choices of sorts—and so I feel rather awkward trying to promote my works. But I think I’m a decent author. At least, I like my stories for the most part, and believe me, I’m not prone to be kind to myself.
I like some of my works more than others, but that’s almost inevitable. If I liked them all equally and unconditionally, it would be hard for me to think I could recommend any of them. Unconditional love, as I’m fond of saying, is worth what you have to do to earn it. Or, to paraphrase Dash from The Incredibles, reflexively saying “Everyone’s special” is just another way of saying that no one is.
Of course, it’s possible for everyone to be special but in different ways and to differing degrees among the many ways it’s possible to be special, and this is almost certainly the case in reality. By genes alone there are many more ways to be human (or whatever species I am) than there have been people who have ever lived, and then there are all the other variables raised by environment and the astonishingly plastic and adaptable and versatile nervous system humans have*, meaning there are many more orders of magnitude of ways for a mind to form even beyond genetic variability. Frankly, I’m amazed it doesn’t go worse than it does more often.
Despite my own endorsement of my stories, I’m not able to rouse myself to write any fiction for now, so I’ll continue to write daily blog posts for the nonce**. For all I know, I may never write any more fiction again. In fact, based on my self-assessment, I would give fairly high odds that I won’t, just as I don’t think these daily blog posts will go on that much longer. There seems little point in continuing to try to do much of anything in the long run, at least for me.
But who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Prediction is a tricky business, especially about the future***.
I am thinking (very vaguely, to be fair) about reading aloud some more of the chapters of The Chasm and the Collision and sharing them here and on YouTube as “videos” as I’ve done for the first (I think) nine chapters so far, and as I’ve done for some of my short stories. It always feels a little weird putting up a “video” that’s really just an audio recording accompanied by a single graphic image, but it would feel even weirder to make an actual video of me just reading my story. Looking at my face while trying to listen to a novel isn’t going to help anyone’s enjoyment.
With that, I think I’ll begin drawing to a close for the day on this, my usual weekly blog post. There’s nothing much going on other than these blog posts. I haven’t played guitar in weeks, nor written any fiction, and I don’t see that turning around. Similarly, I don’t really do anything for fun in the evenings after work, nor on weekends…nor during work hours for that matter. I have a hard time even finding books that I want to read—when even The Lord of the Rings gets boring to me, I know I’m reaching the end of my resources. I certainly don’t hang out with anyone; I’m not so cruel a sadist as to inflict my company on other people more than is absolutely necessary. I’m basically just spending most of my time dilly-dallying near the edge of a bottomless precipice and doing a lot of glancing over and thinking that it doesn’t really look too bad down there. It’s certainly less dull and dreary than it is up here.
*Yes, I know, sometimes it doesn’t seem that the human nervous system is very adaptable and versatile, to say nothing of being very bright, but on this planet, at least, it’s definitely an outlier with respect to high complexity. It’s not its fault that most humans make poor use of it.
**Why doesn’t the nonce write its own blog posts, you ask? Well, the nonce is notoriously lazy but nevertheless noisily demanding. It’s easier just to write its blog posts so it’ll shut up.
***That’s a quote—or at least a paraphrase.