Why do I do this?

...and other pretentious questions. 😉

Substack

A fair question. But it’s surely of more interest to me than it could possibly be to my readers. I’m not Hemingway. I’m not even Giridharadus by a long stretch. I’m not even some of the excellent local writers I follow here in KY. It would be insufferably self-important for me to believe that anyone could learn anything from my motivations or my process. So I don’t expect that, but perhaps I might learn something about myself in the exploration. It’s never too late. Come along for the ride if you wish.

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As I’ve noted before, I’ve always had an interest in reading and writing. I was an English major in college. I did a semester of student-teaching at Clark County High School in Winchester, KY under the supervision of Ms. Phyllis Chaney (loved it). Fifty-five years later, I can still see the faces of many of my students, frozen forever in adolescence in my mind as I am in theirs. For a very long time, I kept an accumulation of the parting letters the kids wrote to me as I finished my semester there (Somewhere in one of our moves over the years, we misplaced it ☹️).

It would have suited me at that point to be an English teacher forever (Many things would have suited me at that point. I was a vagabond 60’s type who didn’t think too far ahead). Somehow it never worked out. Teaching jobs in those days were hard to find and didn’t pay very well. Local favoritism (then as now) had a lot to do with who got hired and who didn’t. I had a versatile disposition and no special sense of a ‘calling’. I moved on to other things and didn’t look back.

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The coming of online social media years later rekindled a dormant desire to put thoughts to writing, what with early message-boards and that sort of thing. I traded pens and 8.5x11” tablets for a keyboard. Facebook became a regular hangout for a while (still is, off-and-on).

These developments unfurled in the midst of a dawning enhanced political consciousness that has had all of us in a constant, simmering uproar (not a coincidence as I see it) for the past thirty years. I had the feeling for a while (too long!) that I was doing my part as a social media warrior for Truth and the American Way.

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Naturally, that’s only part of the story. It’s perhaps the easiest part both to tell and to sell…both to oneself and to the greater audience. It’s also the case that there’s a degree of vanity in the best of us. We want people to know who we are and what we think. Just beneath the surface of even the saintliest of introverted writers, there’s the desire for at least someone out there to recognize (at least to themselves) that you are capable of thoughtful and competent work. When you secretly regard that as your truest inborn skill, it’s gratifying to have it acknowledged. When you respect the craft, you hope to do it well.

These factors apply as well.

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For many years, I was content to do most of my projects on Facebook. Early-on I tended to write verbose screeds (mostly political topics) that I suspect few of my Facebook friends read all the way thru. They’re still there somewhere (a few found their way in here early), but you won’t be missing a lot if you decide to pass. They tend to be fact-heavy, argumentative, and tedious. Most were written when those things seemed to matter more than they do now.

I have many respected friends on FB. More than a few of them are academics and/or serious professionals. Many are polished writers in their own right. A few have published books. They are nearly all interesting and perceptive people who need to be heard. I will continue to do just that…

…but in recent years, it’s occurred to me that there are shortcomings (as I see it) in the atmosphere on FB. It’s become more and more a nation of tribes loosely organized around Trump, beating repetitive drums at the feet of various totem-poles. Beyond that, FB is mostly harmless and (not-unimportant) social and familial fluff. All of that is fine in its place, but it doesn’t any longer feel to me like a place where I can adequately express whatever I might think I have left to say in my limited time…

…which leads me here to Substack. About two years ago, a FB friend started an account here. I had been reading Substack for a while at that point, and she inspired me to start my own account. I gradually began to write and post a few pieces, and the rest (as the saying goes) is history (really small history 😉).

I have decidedly not set the world on fire: At last count, I have about 40 subscribers (all free. I don’t solicit $$ or charge). I’ve posted about 75 articles of varied subject-matter on my Substack website. I have several hundred followers. I’ve had about 4700 views (For perspective, this isn’t a good day for the ever-increasing swarm of media superstars in here).

I refer to myself as a ‘fruit stand’ operation. I write short pieces that are concentrated, economical, easily readable and recitable (I do a little of that also, believe it or not) in one easy sitting.

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That’s all fine. I’m doing what I enjoy to the best of my ability. I’m hoping the occasional pebble that I toss into this enormous pond might now-and-then ripple into a thought (or better yet, an action) somewhere far out beyond where it started. After I’m gone (in relatively short order in the scheme of things), I hope this account is one of the things by which I might be judged and remembered.

That’s why I do it.