Posts Tagged ‘veterans’

My Lessons from Blogging

Thursday, November 11th, 2010

I have been at this gig now well into my third year and I need to pause and take stock of what I have learned from blogging. There are a lot of pros to this endeavour, I have discovered, as much as there are pitfalls. Here is a list of both for those of you out there considering taking this leap, or for those veterans of the blog post who will either agree or disagree with me:

Pros
1) There is no publishing hierarchy to navigate. You simply think, write, then you publish, and the world reads you (or not)
2) This is an outlet to communicate the authentic YOU, warts and all. I have had the opportunity to not only communicate my observations on life, but also my political, religious and social views from time to time. And I have taken the liberty to reflect upon my pet world through my blog– the world of the writer – again, with warts and all
3) It is a way to gather a following (and to lose one, if the message is unpalatable) of readers around issues that are important to you, to elicit feedback, and to learn from them
4) It conditions you to synthesize your ideas into a few lines (I try to stick to no more than a page per post) and yet follow the arc of a story, with opening and closing punch lines
5) It forces you to think. A blog needs content, intelligent content, not always popular, but always thought provoking

Cons
a) The recommendation to constantly refresh content –post at least once a week – can lead to occasional crap filtering in
b) Your content defines you, and is your voice – guard it. Do not compromise quality for quantity. There are days when I think of posting a “Gone Fishing” notice on my blog and taking time off to reflect on the next level of content, however long that may take
c) Not everything is publishable. There are a lot of blogs I have written and later shelved because they don’t make the world a better place but only portray my neuroses. Why add to the insanity out in the world already?
d) You will lose fans occasionally when you write about the issues closest to you, which others may not share in. You may even make enemies
e) You will never be paid money for this endeavour, unless you open up to advertizing. And then you have to figure out if you want your site to be controlled by third parties or by yourself.

These have been my experiences to date. Will I continue to blog? Yes. Will it be as frenetic as before, with artificial deadlines of one post per week? That will depend on my muse; if she takes a vacation, my blog will take a vacation too. Will my blogging be on deeper issues that might even make me unpopular? Yes, there is only so much chatter and saccharine-coating one can engage in, and a writer’s obligation is to tackle the tough issues, for isn’t the pen (or now, the keyboard) mightier than the sword?

For those considering this endeavour, I hope you find these points useful. For the blog veterans, I look forward to your views and counterviews, for isn’t this what blogging is all about – a community of minds agreeing to disagree while respectfully sharing our thoughts?

The World of the Pieceworker

Sunday, September 5th, 2010

Once upon a time, a man (or woman) entered a job, worked his entire life, and retired not seeing the light of day in another company, not knowing the travails of unemployment unless his own company went bankrupt, remaining naive and loyal, and at retirement receiving a pin, a handshake and a pension. These symbols of gratitude were as valuable as the decorations placed upon war veteran’s chests at the end of their service, with the accompanying words, “Well done, old boy! Sorry about the blown-up leg and the shrapnel in your chest, but you took one for the team. Enjoy your pension until you die, it’s on us.”

But that has all changed now, hasn’t it? Gone are those lifelong careers. Piecework, or transactional employment, is now the fashion. While demobilized soldiers still receive a pension for the limbs and minds sacrificed in war, the guys who metaphorically endure the same kinds of losses in the trenches of the business or arts world have lucked out. They are beset with employers asking: “Can you work only one day this week—Sunday?” “How many pieces of that widget can you make in an hour? 40? Not enough. How about 120?” “I don’t care about how many books you have in you, I’ll try this first one, and if I like it, I’ll come back (if you haven’t died of hunger in the meantime, that is).”

While all this bodes well for the best products being available in the market at all times, it does not improve the life of the creators of these products who cannot be producing at their best all the time, and who cannot always be expected to outperform each other and themselves. What will happen to our piece worker with his infrequent bursts of creative brilliance? Impoverishment and neglect will get him eventually, after his best pieces have been sold.

Translating this development to the world of writing, even mighty Google has realized that it cannot forget the bedrock upon which its giant advertizing revenues have been built: content, and by extension, that quintessential piece worker, the writer. How to save this much-maligned hack is now the crusade that Google, and other givers-away of content, are trying to determine. We hear of “premium content zones” or walled information communities, where “curated content” will be made available for a fee, with writers being nurtured, protected (and hopefully compensated) for such valuable output. Is the pendulum swinging back? Is it, really?

Will we ever return to the whole-life based relationship between creators and their employers, where the former are nurtured, fed, and released to produce their life’s work, free of the shackles of worrying about when or where the next meal is coming from? Or has progress led us back to the dark ages where the baser pre-occupations of acquiring food, shelter and safety overpower the pursuit of self-actualization, back to a world devoid of creativity?

Piecework may make short term economic sense from an employer’s viewpoint. But it devalues the very resource, the creator, who produces the product. Ultimately this lame donkey may have to be put to sleep, impoverishing the farmer.