Twitter gives a context for the mundane. Life’s small details are no more or less important than they were before Twitter, just now more people are paying attention to them. And I think that is a good thing.
It’s cleaning day. It’s discovery day. After sorting through papers for the past coupla hours, I discovered a letter an old mentor of mine wrote.
He’s a world famous author. When I was 10, we lived across the street from him. His wife made us tea, and we watched Ken Burns documentaries and talked about World War II and sailing. He gave me the first book which made me want to read, “The Count of Monte Cristo.”
I moved away a year later. We stayed in touch via email. When I graduated college, five years ago, he wrote me this :
“Zachary—I’d guess you are cut out to be a writer. Think you’d have the talent, brains, etc. Do you have what it takes to go down that long and lonely road which you have somewhat accurately foreseen? Who knows? I don’t. Neither do you. It ain’t an easy trip.
You’ll need to know what sort of writer you will be. Fiction or non-fiction. If non-fiction, a reporter of the world (a fine skill) or someone like George Orwell, and many others, who show us reality filtered through their own value system. If fiction do you pick one of then “genre” and within it, do your thing? Or do you try to appeal to the academics who control the world of literary criticism and sign up for whatever is the current darling of the English Professors?
Whatever you decide, I think you have to decide to write for two people. One is yourself, and one is that worthy reader to whom you wish to deliver your image, your vision of a street scene, your memory of two people getting acquainted. Early one, decide if you want to be published. If so you must face the reality of the world of publishing and aim at an audience large enough to provide some sort of sales…”
If I were to write, I hope to capture those Sunday afternoon of drinking tea and talking about the war with my neighbor.
I knew I was doomed from the second I saw the word bachelor party in the subject line. It wasn’t spam. It was far worse: the massive group email that you can’t opt out of.
It was sent to my work email. A good friend of my cousin’s sent this particular email inviting the more than 20 guys who received it to help organize a bachelor party. By the time I read the email nearly all twenty guys had responded with a “reply all” to the group. Some messages were essential, like what city to host the party. And others were less so, for example, “LOL Bob.”
The comment threads are just beginning. We’re months away from the bachelor party. As it gets closer, there will be more inside jokes amongst people I don’t yet know arriving like “personal letters” from the Publisher’s Clearinghouse in my inbox.
There is no real way to ask people not to use my work email. If I do, when I arrive at the bachelor party, I’ll be that “jerk” from the email list.
What do you do in a situation like this?
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