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Minuet for escribitionists and spleen
Maybe I'm just irritable, but it's time for another rant - not two hours after I posted the last one! But you'll be happy to know that this one has nothing to do with head colds, novels or agents.
It has to do with journals. And diaries.
First, the difference between the two.
This is one of those cases where When I Am Queen of the Universe everyone will be forced to accept my definitions, because they are so clearly correct.
A diary is mostly concerned with recording the events of a person's day, often in minute detail, and sometimes the person's reactions to those events. You need no Latin to realize that "diary" comes from the same place as "day." Yes?
A diary is not for speculation about world events or the existence of an afterlife or why the publishing business is depressing or how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. That is for a journal, which records what the writer happens to be ruminating about at the time.
Here comes a Controversial Statement, one which I do not believe I have made anywhere before:
"Journal" is a broader and looser categorization than "diary."
I feel that a "journal" is permitted to have diary-like observations in it, without penalty, but a "diary" had better not slop over too often into journal territory. Otherwise, for pity's sake, call it a journal.
It's not that I don't respect diaries. It's that I seldom read them. Diaries, to my mind, are the ultimate in information that is only useful to its creator.
I have a friend who keeps a (paper) diary. I don't know what he writes in it, obviously, but he did mention to me once that he writes down what he ate each day. Now, I have no interest in knowing what someone else ate, but I don't dispute that the information might be useful to him later.
I know only one web site offhand that I would consider an actual diary. It's Anita's. She records what she did and saw. Period. It's like reading a police report; very little speculation is permitted.
Now, I adore Anita and I sincerely hope I don't upset her badly by saying this, but I don't read her diary that often - it just isn't fascinating to me, as a spectator. Yet I would never think to ask her why she does it, or why it's valuable to her. That seems obvious to me.
Here's the next Controversial Statement:
Most of the online "diaries" are actually journals.
This is important ... because it's causing me to partially reverse another position, one I've argued many times.
I have stated before that it is a worthless endeavor to critique or otherwise evaluate the contents of these online escribitionist whatsits.
If they're diaries, I stand by my conclusions. I mean, can you critique Anita's list of things she did today, or my friend's list of what he ate? Of course not, unless you're claiming they're liars. You can't critique a diary for content, and critiquing it for prose style is of very limited use. You can crit it for technical matters - bad fonts, bad punctuation, unreadable colors - but that's about it.
On the other hand, journals ... well, I used to say the same thing about journals. I used to say that one keeps a journal only for one's own benefit, the audience is just a happenstance thing, a side effect of the medium, and therefore critiquing their content is equally pointless. I said that until today. Today I changed my mind.
I am now willing to concede: I will agree that these web journals are written at least partially with an eye to the audience. This claim annoys me, because to me it implies that I'm writing what I think you'll want to read ... and when I pander to my audience, I like to get paid for it. When I write for free, I'll write whatever I damned well please.
But I realized today that it doesn't have to imply that, not always. More to the point, I realized that my emotions about "what do the readers think" are very complex ... as is the whole situation of journals-as-entertainment.
The problem is that diarist.net gives awards now - awards that readers vote on. Escribitionists now have a popularity contest. And as much as critiques bothered me, this bothers me far more. It strikes me that such a thing will encourage the kind of pandering I was just griping about. People will stop being forthright about what they're thinking and feeling and start thinking, "Hmm, how do I write something that will appeal?"
Except that I was made a finalist for one of these awards today. And I find that, despite my disgust, I'm flattered - Gee, I knew there were people who liked reading this stuff, but now there's proof!
A dangerous impulse. One which I must fight. (I think my most recent series of rants, including this one, should nip that in the bud pretty well anyway.)
So - I thought - maybe I should go vote. After all, I got nominated, the least I can do is go look at the other nominees and cast a ballot. It can't hurt, right?
(You see how this seduction had already begun to alter my thinking.)
Well, I got to the first of the site categories and immediately I knew that I would not be able to proceed.
Best Writing
Nothing, By God - James Valvis
Kalamazoo Days - Rob Rummel-Hudson
Squishy - Pamie
Here's the problem. Jim Valvis very clearly has the best writing of the three. No question. Unfortunately, he's not writing a journal. Or anything even remotely like a journal.
Valvis is writing stories and poems. He is striving for the same emotional sensation a strong poem or short-short has - like you've just had a nice stiff drink and are still reeling at the senses a little bit.
Valvis is a writer of fiction. That means he lies. I say this as a writer of fiction myself: Making up lies is what fiction is all about. His lies are disguised as journal entries, they're about people's lives - but they're not about his life, and he never pretended they were. (The William Saroyan quote on his top page is a big hint, as far as I'm concerned.)
I respect Valvis and I like his work a lot. But I have read several months of his entries and I know nothing more about him than when I started. Which, I suspect, is exactly the way he wants it. That's great, but it's not a journal.
I've discussed my problems with Pamie before. Pamie is, at heart, a comedian (and she does it well). She makes me laugh. She writes very nicely - but is it a journal? It's about the events in her life, sure, but you can never quite tell when she's embellishing (read:lying), playing to the audience, looking for laughs. And that's fine as long as you accept the ground rules and are willing to buy into it, but again I'm not sure it's a journal.
Both Pamie and Valvis write better than poor Rob (who has barely forgiven me for the JFK stuff and will probably come to Boston to kill me now). But Rob would win my vote, because he's the only one of the three keeping an actual journal - it's about him, it's about his life, his ideas and his speculations, and it tells all these things honestly - and that's what a journal's supposed to be. To me, anyway.
So, Rob, I'd have voted for you and I'm sorry I couldn't, but these categories made me so unhappy I had to abstain. What is "best writing" in a journal anyway? Most compelling? Most interesting? Best vocabulary? Most honest?
And while we're at it, what on god's green earth makes this an "experimental" journal? Or do I even want to know the answer to that?
© Columbine
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