Why do people write?
Or do anything, really?
I Write. I write code, or websites, or diary entries, or short stories. But I don’t write as much as I’d like to. But I *do* send emails. I write in guestbooks. I send text messages. Why?
Every story or site or song or scene I send out into the wide world is for the enjoyment (Or, for the 1402 stuff, appreciation at least) of the wide world at large, at small and at play. How do I know people enjoy this stuff?
People send me feedback.
Except, of course, when they don’t.
The most depressing thing that can ever happen to any “Creative” person is to spend ages on his or her great work of fiction/poetry/anything, and to see it disappear into the void without a single ripple in the pond.
That happens occasionally.
That is why I used to do D/GM for Dungeons and Dragons, because you can *see* the aftereffects of your story. This Is Good. Sadly I had to stop it about six years ago, due to my players discovering reality. Bah.
Reality is Crunchy Hobnobs.
(Some things give feedback. My stories don’t, and that is one of the reasons I write so few. Eventually I’ll find some way to write stories and get feedback. I hope. I enjoy writing, and I suppose I should feel that my enjoyment is enough, but I write for *other people* and if I don’t know that other people are enjoying it, I don’t see any point. )
This weekend I spent in Nottingham at an AFP (Terry Pratchett Newsgroup) Meet. That was fun. Really, really fun. As per usual, sleep was in short supply, but the beer was good, the food was great, and the people were, as ever, fantastic. This weekend cost me somewhere in the region of