Friday, January 17, 2003

What's in an audience, anyway? I read somewhere that every writer's primary audience is him or herself.  I don't remember who wrote that, but who cares?  He or she was some selfish bastard anyway.  Anyhow, it's an interesting point.  To be certain, most of us who write--and I'm not calling myself a "writer", as I've got a ways to go--do so at least in part because it satisfies us in a highly personal way.  So I think there's something to that.  But I'm definitely not someone who writes exclusively for me.  I can't write on this blog or anywhere else without thinking about who's going to read it.  I've never, in my whole life, been able to successfully keep a journal, despite several attempts.  I can't but think, "Why am I writing this?  No one is ever going to read it!"  I don't want to spend my time processing about what it is in my psyche that compels me to be so motivated by the approval of others.  I'll publicly process my private issues another time. Writing on Hyperbole is the first time that I've ever written anything for wider public consumption (if "public" means the 100 or so people who accidentally find themselves here each day).  It's an interesting exercise to spend a little energy figuring out how my audience affects what and how I write.  Something I'm sure every blogger deals with.  Except for the Reverse Cowgirl, since every single person in the in the United States clicks on her site every single day, and so she can't please all 280 million of us. I have no illusions that most, if not all, of the people who read Hyperbole on a somewhat regular basis are people that I know personally.  As a result, it is quite tempting to include inside jokes, stories that some readers know, and other such things.  But then again, there are probably a couple of people out there who actually found Hyperbole (undoubtedly they are also part of the Salon blog community) who sort of like it and check in occasionally.  And I can't deny that I'd love to get a wider audience so that I can complete my plan to be a world-famous writer--presently moving forward at astonishing speed.  So inside jokes are no good for that audience.  Writing for a less-forgiving crowd ultimately means that the quality of my "work" is a little higher, I hope--pleasing those you don't know is invariably more difficult than pleasing the ones you do know.  So if you're reading this and I don't know you, thanks for coming, and also thanks for accidentally pushing me to write a little bit better. I have family members who read what I write here pretty regularly.  This is really pretty cool.  It's nice that my Mom or my aunt or my sister or my grandma is actually interested in what's going on here at Hyperbole.  I'd far, far rather have an interested family than an uninterested family. But I can't pretend that it doesn't affect my writing, because it does.  I always think about the fact that my mom is reading this.  My mom is totally cool, of course, and I doubt that there's too much I could write that would displease her--her biggest fault may be that she's completely uncritical.  But I don't care how cool your mom is--don't you shy away from things, or change the wording just a little, or reconsider topics for writing?  For instance, I've been considering writing a detailed journal of my incredibly widespread sexual exploits titled "Stud of the Year:  Orgies and Me" but I just can't do that with Mom reading. Then there's Grandma.  Anyone who says its not totally cool to have their grandmother reading their online weblog is crazy.  It's totally cool.  I've given my Grandma multiple compliments for tackling the internet past 70.  However, paranoia about offending one's mother pales in comparison to the fear of offending one's grandmother. The comments are a different issue altogether.  How can I be taken seriously with my mother writing "Great stuff!  I love you, honey!  You're the best!" in a public forum.  Does Tom Friedman get inundated with letters to the New York Times from his mom after every column?  And does William Safire call Tom "Mama's Boy?"  "Hey, Mama's Boy, nice work today on that Israel piece!  Did Mommy like that one?" My friends tease me a little bit about Grandma making comments.  But don't stop, Grandma--I love the fact that you read my stuff.  Ultimately, though, it may be a hit to my journalistic credibility that I'll have to just live with.  And who can really complain about getting comments like  "Hi Jim, I really loved your humorous piece on beastiality and sadomasochism in Amsterdam.   You're the best!  Love, Grandma." 3:35:20 PM    Let's hear it. []