Why blog now?

So, the excuses are over, and it is time to start webloging.

Why I did not until now? Well, it wasn’t just the workload and the tests. There were some fundamental considerations at hand.

First, there was a rather silly one, when I think about it now. I was afraid to “waste” my ideas. Bad ideas and thoughts are not worth being on the log, and good ones, well…aren’t they better be used in some future book of mine?…

Silly, right? If people won’t read the log, then I can use them either way. If my blog will be obscure, no harm’s done, none shall see it anyway. But if many people will read my blog, then what’s the difference if I succeeded in obtaining readers through the pages of an old-fashioned book or through my website? I must move on with time, I said to myself. And besides, who said you can’t use ideas again and again. Most good ideas are used more than one time, in books, movies and the like, maybe this is what makes them so good.

Secondly, the question then arises why taking the bother in writing all this stuff and putting it on the web? Is it going to interest anyone? Does anyone going to notice it?

Sometimes it seems that the ocean of words that the internet is comprised from is like an infinite set: it won’t change if you add any finite text to it. The new opportunities that the web offered to millions of voices that waited to be heard, the sudden direct connections between millions of souls around the globe seem sometimes like a mere illusion. Though free from the bottleneck of the conventional book publishing houses and picky magazine editors, there is a place now for any voice to be heard, and Andy Warhall’s vision of the 15 minutes of fame that every person will get in the future seems at hand. The global stage is set. Everybody can climb on and say his bid.

But is there an audience for all this? The blade is double sided. If you want that everybody (well at least a lot of people) will hear and read you, you must hear everybody else, which is, difficult, and how to put it, not that interesting.

The freedom of the web converged somehow back to the old state, that appears very natural: main sites, main popular writers. Mainstream writing was not greatly influenced by the web, to my opinion. It still lives especially in old fashion books. The real revolution was especially in what my friend Gil (A Hebrew name that means: “The one that rides camels very fast”) calls the wide fringes, away from the mainstream. Small communities (= writers and readers) appeared around specific topics. The global connection revealed that you do not need to appeal to all of the people all the time. There are small worlds to conquer. You can write in the forum of bald cats or origami, but many still strive for something grandeur, the same thing they loaned for when they flooded the publishers with pretentious manuscripts. So now they flood the web. But who am I to judge them. Am I not one of them?

This is exactly what kept me from writing on the web till now. The hubris in writing on the web seemed bothersome, narcissistic and annoying. Who cares what I write about?

Well, I got this sorted out: I don’t expect anybody to read this. This is my small domain. My only purpose is not to bore myself, which is exactly what starting to do now, writing so much about the why I write – how typical. I may return to that topic later on, for now, I just start.

Just some comments about how I see this weblog, and what I intend to do with – an intention that may change in the course of time.

I see this place as my private notebook for idea fragments, opinions, short texts and outlines for ideas, all crude and minimally edited. The serious and edited stuff appears on my website (now only in Hebrew). Here is the playground, the personal brainstorm.

I have a small precious notebook in which I noted such ideas till now, saving them for future books or articles. I will continue to use it in the future, but I will set some of my ideas free here, where the chances that someone will notice them are only slightly higher than the chance that someone will break into my house, accidentally stumble over my notebook, steal it and publish it.

So I don’t expect anyone to read this. All of the sudden, this loneliness seems very cozy and intimate. There is something even exciting about not being read at all. Oh, I am being romantic.

Nonsense. Writing without an audience is like worshipping a god that doesn’t exist…Hey, wait a minute! People do this all the time and it gives a lot of meaning to their lives. Of course, you have to believe…

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