I know. I know. I should blog more.
I can use the exposure, Gods know. As Cory Doctorow says, a writer’s worst enemy is obscurity, not piracy. And amply obscure am I.
Notwithstanding there are actually some of you kind enough to read this damned thing. Some people who for their own good reasons will never comment here even read it to keep abreast of events in my life, I happen to know.
Thanks for caring. Seriously.
The problem I have with blogging is the same thing that drove me out of role-playing games: the muscles I use to blog are about the same as I use to write my fiction. You know, the stuff I get paid for.
And there’s the time thing, of course. There’s always time. Or maybe, there’s always not time.
And that old devil perfectionism always seems to get a claw in. I’m forever looking for the ideal picture, the cute caption (and mouseover! Do not neglect the mouseovers!) Forever trying to make sure everything’s worded just right.
So I find myself burning too much time and energy when I blog. Hence not blogging enough. So, screw perfectionism. From now on I’ll be content to leave my posts here imperf