Saturday, November 14, 2009

Why blog?

There is a cynical part of me that says blogging is for people who have too much spare time on their hands and want to feel more important than they really are. That having been said, welcome to my first blog. Born out of a mis-directed sense of purpose, I guess what I want from this exercise is what everyone probably wants: exposure. The internet is an open forum, a place to rant and rave, and tell stories, and though there are many things I can't do, I can tell a pretty good story. In fact, I'll tell you one now.

Years ago, there lived a boy whose mind seemed a waterfall of endlessly flowing thoughts. Even as he sat in class during school, he draw comics, or wrote short stories, or tried to think of characters for his new novel. This earned him the scorn of a great many dedicated educators, all of whom asked him why he chose not to "live up to his potential". He inevitably stared down at his feet and promised to try harder.

Only he didn't try harder. He locked himself in his bedroom with his mother's old Macintosh Plus and wrote Star Trek fan fiction, and a novel that had been inspired by friends he no longer had in a home where he no longer lived. While others spent hours shooting hoops in their driveways and hanging out at the mall with friends, our hero spent his afternoons and evenings, holidays and weekends, in his room. Though he wrote a lot, he never showed his work to anyone. That way, no one could judge him.

After he left high school, our hero sought work in everyday jobs. His first attempt failed spectacularly, as did his second. His third attempt found him in an office, and his fourth found him as the bottom rung on a Fortune-100 ladder. He continued to write in his spare time, but he still didn't dare show his work. He didn't want to fail, to be told that he was no good.

Years later, after he'd burned through about every job he could imagine, he began to consider that perhaps, writing wasn't about failure or success. Perhaps storytelling, an art as ancient as the human race itself, was about sharing your words and your imagination with the world. Maybe failure was a moot point. By then, the dot-com bubble had burst, but the internet was in full swing, and so our storyteller figured he'd start small, with a blog, perhaps.

Welcome to my blog. It's high time I started sharing myself with you, and I wouldn't mind knowing a little bit about you in return, because we all have our own stories to tell. Great literature this ain't, but perhaps you will enjoy a nice tidbit here and there with a good, strong cup of coffee or a soothing mug of tea. This blog is for all fo you, and I hope you'll enjoy it.


  1. Hey Clayton,
    This is great! I look forward to the next installment!

  2. I love your first story, keep them coming! :)

  3. heyooo. a little story of two libraries:

    The long-awaited visit. The library was two red brick buildings with scratch texture, early 1900's. Two rooms with stacks; all clientelle and the lone employee turning to glare as we enter. "Where's your crapper?" does not cross my lips, only my mind. The tiny moustached woman in purple keens.

    She: I was crying. He: some gigantic shorts, a white beard. She: toe talent, clutching, chipped polish, flip-flops. She (baby): soft talk.
    The kind of old white man I used to fear would control my life. Now cane-wielding geezers controlling nothing.
    Francis has reduced Legacy to an indicator of bad personality traits, a yardstick. "You're just like Francis." "No, you're a little Francis." "No, you are."

    Happy endings to all CK

  4. Nice intro, Clayton. And thanks for the really productive comments last night. I'm kinda excited to get some revising done. Looking forward to more from you.