Tag: blogging

This is my 1,000th daily post on this blog

Well, there we are. 1,000 days of non-stop daily blogging. I am the best, I win, etc. Sorry this post is so late, but once you've read it you'll hopefully appreciate that it took a bit of time to put together. I felt I should make the effort, you know. Special occasion and all that.

Of course, I'm well aware that I'm not the first person to reach a thousand days — as I mentioned a few days back, Mr Ian Dransfield got there first due to… well, starting before me. I joined the initial #oneaday crowd a little late, on January 19, 2010, whereas the people who actually started the whole thing off began closer to New Year's Day. As I noted in that post I just linked to, however, I am officially the Last Man Standing and I don't mind admitting that I feel more than a little proud of that fact. Through thick and thin, I've stuck by this self-imposed project with no end and no goal, and I have enjoyed the experience immensely.

And, more importantly, I plan to continue enjoying it from this point onwards. Post number 1,000 — that's this one — is most certainly not a fond farewell and a hanging up of the… whatever implement best exemplifies blogging. (My computer keyboard, I guess.) No; it's a significant milestone, for sure, but I see no reason to stop. There are plenty of things to write about. And while they may not always be the most interesting or universally appealing, as I've noted on this blog a number of times before, the original intention of #oneaday was not to be interesting or universally appealing. It was simply a kick up the bum to get those of us who enjoyed writing to do more writing. Writing for ourselves, rather than for someone else. Writing without limits, without the necessity of sticking to a style (though those of us in it for the long haul naturally developed our own personal styles), without word counts, without anyone deciding whether or not the thing we were writing about was worth writing about. And, of course writing without editing.

Yes, these are the pure, unexpurgated contents of my brain you're reading every day. Unfiltered, uncensored, completely truthful. (Well, okay, regarding the latter, I might omit to mention a few things, but that's not exactly the same as lying.) A couple of people have commented to me over the course of the past thousand days that they're impressed by my ability to just lay my soul bare on the page like that, to confess to things that others might find difficult to talk about. For me, though, it's actually something of a relief to be able to talk about a lot of these things, be it my depression and social anxiety or my enjoyment of visual novels that, in many cases, have bonking in them. This blog has been a good "friend", as it were, providing me with a place to empty my brain of all the thoughts that have been floating around with it over the course of each day, and in the process I have made a few actual friends who have either related to the things I've written or just found them interesting. Which is, you know, nice.

More after the jump — it's a long one. (That's what she said, etc.)

Continue reading "This is my 1,000th daily post on this blog" →

#oneaday Day 991: Last Man Standing

So, having hit one thousand daily posts before me (he did start first), Mr Ian Dransfield has officially bowed out of the daily blogging business. I don't blame him at all — he notes that the prospect of continuing even on a weekly basis feels like "giving myself work I don't want to do" so has chosen instead to jack it in altogether. A hearty congratulations to him for having put up with it for so long, though — a thousand daily posts is a massive amount of stuff to evacuate from your head on to the page. Believe me, I know.

Since I'm coming up behind Ian and closing in on that elusive post number 1,000 as the last man standing, this has naturally got me thinking about the whole business, too. Specifically, it has me thinking to myself "is it worth still doing this? Am I actually enjoying it?"

And, I have to conclude once again — this isn't the first time I've asked myself this question — that "yes" is the answer to both of those questions. In the last 991 days, I don't think there's been a single time that I've resented my self-imposed obligation to write this blog. There have been days where it's been difficult to think of something to write, sure, and there have been days where other distractions have meant I haven't written it until a ridiculous hour in the morning (I think 4am was the latest after having watched several episodes of Firefly while in conversation with someone over the Internet) but I've certainly never felt like it was an unwelcome obligation. Quite the opposite, in fact — although it usually ends up being the last thing I do each day, it's something I often find myself thinking about over the course of the day's activities and looking forward to actually sitting down and writing. It is, as I've said many times before, a cathartic means of self-expression for me, with the happy bonus that I've got to know a number of thoroughly pleasant people in the process. Moreover, a number of people who already knew me have got to know things about me that they might not have done otherwise.

Like Ian, my life has changed immeasurably since I started writing this blog. I have changed jobs several times — going from primary school teacher to unemployed bum to part-time, low-paid games journalist to legitimate, properly-paid games journalist. My relationship status has changed several times — my wife and I split, signalling the start of the darkest period I've ever been through in my life; I met someone, that didn't work out; I met Andie, that did work out (right? Hopefully. OH GOD WHAT IF— [*slap* — the Rational Part of Pete's Brain]). I went to America several times for various reasons (PAX East, family time). I've moved several times — from Southampton back to my childhood home in Cambridgeshire, then onward to my current situation in Wiltshire (and hopefully back to Southampton at some point in the near future). I've re-established contact with some friends; lost touch with others. And I've discovered anime.

Alongside all these various upheavals, the one constant in my life has been this silly little corner of the Internet that I call my own, with the tens of thousands of words I've tapped onto it at ungodly hours in the morning, usually from my own computer, but sometimes from my phone, sometimes my tablet, sometimes my netbook. This blog has been someone I can always "talk to", to offload thoughts and memories both pleasant and painful, and to share those things with anyone who will listen. It's been an immeasurably valuable experience for me, and thus I have absolutely no intention of stopping right now.

I realise that by saying all these things now I am effectively sabotaging my own "YAY 1,000 POSTS" post, but eh, whatever. With Ian's departure from the journey, it felt timely to say them now. Doubtless inspiration will hit me at about 2am on Day 1,000 and I'll have something amazing to share with you.

Until then, though, it's business as usual, I'm afraid. Thanks for continuing to read, like and comment, and I'll see you again tomorrow!

#oneaday Day 968: Silence to 1K

As I draw ever closer to that elusive "1,000 daily posts" combo it becomes more and more difficult to think of things to write about each day. I'm very conscious of the fact that I have already repeated myself on several occasions as well as spent several posts on a number of topics where one would have perhaps sufficed (hello, Katawa Shoujo) but I have no regrets as to how things have gone so far.

I'm not saying there aren't 968 different things in the world to write about, obviously, it's whether or not I can say anything coherent about them — and whether or not I can actually think of any of them when it comes to time to write this blog, since I almost inevitably end up doing it as one of the last things I do each day. (Today is an exception — I've specifically decided to write this before I settle down to a bit of pre-bedtime My Girlfriend is the President). Sometimes when you have to write something, your mind just goes blank and the absolute last thing you want to do is write. I get it sometimes during my day job, when I play a game so unbearably tedious or awful that the mere prospect of writing about how tedious and awful it is fills me with a sense of deep melancholy. (Other times, however, it's fun to rip something that has clearly been crafted with no care or attention whatsoever a new one — or indeed to praise something that is worthy of praise.)

And yet despite occasional dalliances with writer's block, here I am, day after day, posting my inane ramblings to anyone who will listen. To my surprise, I have built up something of a small but apparently dedicated audience over the last few years I've been writing this. My distaste for the Facebook "Like" button is well-documented, but the WordPress "Like" button is another matter — it gives me the opportunity to see when new (or familiar) visitors have stopped by and felt the need to show their presence, which is genuinely nice to see. (WordPress' overly-positive emails make out that someone clicking the Like button is an absolutely massive deal on a par with being whisked away on a romantic getaway and proposed to in front of a sunset, but we both know you're just clicking a button.)

Believe it or not, as self-indulgent as this blog is more often than not, I'm very grateful to those of you who stop by and read/like/comment. I've said on numerous occasions that this blog isn't "for" anyone — the original remit of the #oneaday project was simply to get all the participants writing every day for the sake of writing, not for the sake of building an audience — but it is pretty awesome to see that, on occasion, something I post resonates with someone else somewhere else in the world. Ships in the night and all that.

Speaking of the #oneaday project, I have to toot my own horn a bit here — I'm pretty proud of myself for sticking with this for so long. Granted, with the number of words I've written across the last 968 posts I could probably have penned at least two or three novels, but that's not quite the same as having an "outlet". On more than one occasion I've been grateful for this blog as a means to share things I'm thinking or feeling with anyone who will listen — it's not always easy to do that face-to-face or over the phone, but bizarrely, announcing it to the entire world via the Internet is absolutely no problem whatsoever, largely because in that case you can simply express yourself and walk away without having to have any of those difficult "conversation" things.

But I digress. To my knowledge, the only other original participant of #oneaday's first year who is still going is the inimitable Mr Ian Dransfield of Play Magazine fame. Meanwhile, it looks entirely possible that the most pleasant Gemma Critchley is also about to start blogging again, which is nice to see. It's been a bumpy ride for daily bloggers, though — in the first year, a huge number of participants (including the "founder") dropped out within a week or two of starting; in the second year, I made a bold attempt to try and organise everyone via this "hub" site, relaxing the "rules" a little in order to (successfully) attract more people, and inviting readers to sponsor our efforts for charity. (In the process, I apparently pissed off one of the original participants who had not taken part since January of the previous year, who promptly posted an incoherent ranty post about how he was going to do things their own way, only going to prove my suspicions about said person. No, I am not saying who it was or what my suspicions were.)

This is now my third year of daily blogging and while the "community" feeling of blogging together with others is all but gone (for now, at least) it's still satisfying to know that I can look back on the last 968 days and know that at least some of this waffle is worth reading again. It may be narcissistic to do so, but I do sometimes enjoy just hitting the "Random Post" button and seeing what comes up. More than enjoying rereading my past posts, it's sometimes fun, sometimes sad, always interesting to think back on where I was in my life at that point — and where I might be another 968 days from now.

I guess I should start planning my 1,000 post party. Who can make a good cake?

#oneaday Day 754: Hindsight

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Every so often, I like to look back over my old blog entries and ruminate on everything that's come to pass in the time since writing them. Since starting this site back in 2009, and particularly since starting daily posting early in 2010, I think it's fair to say that a lot has changed. And, pleasingly, mostly for the better.

My early #oneaday posts largely focused on how miserable I was working as a teacher. I had a feeling before I even started that position at that primary school that it was going to be a difficult time — my previous stint as a secondary school teacher had ended with me suffering a nervous breakdown, after all, and I wasn't keen to return to that place in my mind.

I had thought I should give primary teaching a shot, however, as several family members and friends had said they thought I'd make a good primary school teacher. (I have since forgiven them for saying these things.) Given the amount of unnecessary fighting and workplace bullying I had to put up with to get a foot in the door of primary teaching, I also wasn't about to give up easily.

But give up I did. Not for lack of trying, but because I recognised the signs of my own decline from last time and wanted to escape before my brain collapsed again. That and I had the opportunity to go to PAX East in Boston, which was something I desperately wanted to do and proved to be, to date, probably the happiest, most fun time of my life.

Subsequently came the chaos that was the end of my marriage. This, in stark contrast to PAX East, was the most difficult, unpleasant experience I have ever been through. The way I felt after breaking down at school that first time was absolutely nothing compared to the sense of guilt, rejection, anger, stupidity, frustration, sadness, regret and all manner of other feels I felt during this dark period of my life. I felt like I was going under, and that this time I'd never make it back up again.

Ironically, I think some of my best writing was done during this period. I guess it's true what they say: inner pain fuels art.

Make it back I did, though, thanks to support from family and friends. I moved away from the city I'd called home for nearly ten years (even during the periods when I didn't actually live there) and moved back in to my childhood home.

I was in two minds about this. On the one hand, to be pushing thirty and back living with my parents felt kind of pathetic, like I'd failed at life. On the other hand, I was and am grateful to them for supporting me at that difficult time. I felt hugely depressed for much of the time I lived there as I desperately tried to rebuild my life, struggling to find a job when the only thing I was really qualified was teaching — the career that had nearly killed me.

By a stroke of good fortune, I eventually found myself working for GamePro, initially on a fairly casual basis, then gradually building up my contributions until I was effectively a remote full-time employee, responsible for the majority of the site's news output. I had a noticeable impact, too — the traffic figures showed that my work was attracting lots of new visitors to the site, and I was developing a good reputation as the face of GamePro's news posts.

By a further stroke of good luck, I found myself in a new relationship with someone who understood me and my likes a whole lot better than my wife ever did. This developed quickly and eventually gave me the means and the opportunity to fly the nest once again. This, coupled with my work for GamePro, made me feel my life was finally getting back on track.

To date, I think GamePro was my favourite job I've ever had. Which is what made it all the more upsetting when GamePro met its unceremonious demise late last year. I saw a variety of panicked-looking emails from other members of staff but since I wasn't physically present in the office, I'd obviously missed out on some sort of important news. I hoped against hope that it wasn't what I thought it was, but it was.

I thought for a horrible moment that it was all over again, that things had come to a disastrous close thanks to my reliance on a volatile industry for my career. It had been going so well, though, and right up until the plug was pulled, GamePro's traffic figures were skyrocketing. But it wasn't enough.

Now I find myself writing regularly for specialist business sites Inside Social Games and Inside Mobile Apps. I find myself using terms like "monetization" (a word for whom I have expressed considerable disdain in the past) and "user acquisition". I compile reviews and a weekly business-to-business report on trends in the social and mobile gaming industries.

And y'know what, I'm enjoying it. It's satisfying work of a different kind to that which I did on GamePro, and not as high profile to the public, but that's okay — it means less likelihood of being denounced as a paedophile by psychotic commenters simply because I posted a news story about an academic institute's game exploring LGBT issues, after all. (Yes, that really happened.)

Life is pretty good right now. I'm in an awesome relationship, I have a job I enjoy where I learn new stuff regularly, I live in a nice place and for the first time in quite a long while I'm reasonably financially stable.

It's been a long road to this point, and there's plenty more steps on my life's journey (unless I get hit by a bus tomorrow, obviously, and even then I might survive), but things are looking pretty sort of kind of okay right now. Long may it continue.

If you've been following this nonsense for years, another hearty thank you for sticking by me through all the past angst. I hope my catalogue of misfortunes, my fall and rise has been entertaining, enlightening and/or helpful to at least some of you.

And if you're a new follower, uh, welcome. You caught me at a good time.

#oneaday Day 630: Over My Shoulder

I've been blogging since July of 2008. Actually, that's not quite true — I've been blogging a lot longer than that, but had a couple of other websites prior to this one. To my knowledge, only one of them is still there, and that was a somewhat abortive effort. This site, then, represents one of the most consistent creative endeavours that I've ever undertaken.

For what, though? What is it achieving? I'm certainly not making any great effort to ponce around with anything like search engine optimisation and the limit of my attempts to "drive traffic" consist of auto-posting each entry to Facebook and Twitter as a link for people to click through to. And yet, here I am, day after day, writing something for anywhere between — most weeks — 20 and 100 people. 24 of you readers are subscribed by email, meaning you get a daily dose of nonsense posted direct to your inbox (and possibly don't count against my views count, you bastards, unless you actually do, in which case you're not bastards, and I don't really care anyway) and I have no idea how many more might be subscribed via RSS.

As I've said on a few other occasions, though, the main reason I'm writing all this gobbledegook day after day is for myself. I'm not sure if I'll be looking back on this content in a few years time and figuring out something profound about myself or not, but I certainly like having it all there — and knowing that there are 629 daily posts before this one (and a few more irregular ones prior to that) is quite satisfying.

I like reading back old things that I've written. I don't keep all old pieces of writing that I do, but I have some knocking around that date back to my school days, which are a good few years ago now. It's sometimes interesting to look back and read your work and consider what might have been going through your mind at the time — or what inspired you to write a particular work.

I think the oldest piece of writing I've still hung onto is the Woolworths notebook that my friend Edd and I took on holiday to Gran Canaria. It was 1992, and we were in Year 7. That holiday was memorable for all sorts of reasons — the cockroach attack in the middle of the night, the discovery of Mortal Kombat and X-Men in the local arcade, our first experiences snorkelling. And most of it is entertainingly chronicled in the dodgy handwriting of the 11-12 year old me.

The way you write changes over the years, even if you're not a writer and if you don't do it often. Old people using computers forget how to use capital letters and punctuation (except the exclamation mark, which they use with gay abandon) while some develop a clear sense of style and voice according to who they're writing to. When you're twelve, however, most of your writing is written in the same register, however many English lessons on formal and informal letters you might have had. My old notebook is a fine example of this, sharing details of stupid in-jokes that Edd and I had at the time, the context of which has been mostly lost to the mists of time save for the written record of the fact that we did indeed compose a short song called "I'm an egg-timer" together and that we found it inexplicably amusing to hum the theme tune from the Whiskas cat food advert while descending a water slide.

Don't ask. I have no idea.

I wonder if in twenty years' time — firstly, will this site still be around or will we all have switched to something like the OASIS platform in Ready Player One? — I'll still be writing in the same manner. Perhaps I will — in some senses, even though I'm (painfully) aware that I'm thirty years old, in others I feel like I haven't grown up a whole lot. There's still a ton of things about the world that I don't know or don't understand, and a lot of people seem to have a firmer grasp on them than me — or, more likely, simply do a better job of hiding the fact that they're overwhelmed by everything out there.

Arguably part of this feeling of "immaturity", for want of a better word, is writing this every day. When I'm writing some nonsense here, I can just sort of "let go" and channel that twelve year old kid who felt the need to chronicle everything on a holiday with a friend. I'm under no obligations to write in a particular style or follow the AP Style Guide or whatever (though you'll notice I do make an effort to spell and punctuate correctly, typos aside) so I can just sit back (well, forward, otherwise I can't reach the keyboard) and type whatever is in my head onto the virtual page in front of me.

This is a nice feeling, and that's why I do this day after day. I appreciate those of you who keep coming back to read my ramblings, I really do. But the act of writing, of self-expressions, of, in some cases, being able to write things that are difficult to talk about out loud — that's why I do it. It makes me feel good, makes me feel like I have an outlet and am free to express myself however I see fit. And sure, anyone reading can and will judge me based on the things I write. And that's fine, because after all, I'm posting all this for public consumption. But more than that, this is something for me. This is me. And if you've come along for the ride here and read the last six hundred and whatever posts, you probably know me pretty damn well by now.

If, however, you're new, the archives are on the right hand side. I'll see you in a few months.

#oneaday Day 614: Joining the Fold

It's with some pleasure that I welcome a very good friend of mine to the blogging fold. A big hand, if you please, for Mr Kalam Abul. Kalam's a good buddy from my days working for a certain fruit-based computer manufacturer's retail outlet, and we both have plenty of unpleasant experiences to talk about from our time there, but now's not the time for that.

Kalam plans on using his shiny new blog as a form of free therapy — and that, to me, sounds like an excellent idea. After all, at times, it's what I do here. Talking about stuff is good. If you don't have anyone to talk to, though — or no-one you feel comfortable talking to, or if you don't necessarily need to "talk", more just "get things off your chest" — then writing is an excellent outlet. I know that the last 614 days of writing something every day — though it's been a struggle sometimes — have provided me with a means to vent my inner frustrations into something vaguely productive rather than sitting around moping, being upset, crying, punching sofas (apparently) or stabbing badgers. This is good.

Self-proclaimed social media experts and people who read Mashable would probably come along right now and say that blogging's not about the individual person, it should be about your audience, your community, the blogosphere and other pretentious-sounding phrases. You know what I say to those people? Sod off. Your own personal space on the Web is yours to do with as you please. You can vent your frustrations, or you can attempt to provide a "service". You can express yourself, or you can inform. You can even do all of the above. You don't necessarily have to have a particular "structure" or theme in mind (though it sometimes helps) — sometimes all you need to do is write.

If I had to pigeonhole this blog, I'd be pretty hard-pushed to do so. The most frequently-occurring topic is likely video games, of course, and that's probably unsurprising. It's something that's in my blood and that I've been involved with for almost as long as I can remember — and it's something I'm involved with professionally now, too. But I certainly wouldn't describe this place as a video games blog. There's all manner of other nonsense amidst the rampant enthusings regarding Xenoblade Chronicles and Deadly Premonition. There's honest stuff, creative stuff, weird stuff, experimental stuff, stuff that didn't quite work, stuff that I'm incredibly pleased with and stuff that makes me sad to think back on. All of it's important, and, particularly since I started this daily posting business, all of it reminds me where I've come from and — maybe, anyway — where I'm going.

I can certainly say for a fact that this time last year I wouldn't have imagined that I'd be sitting here right now — though it's probably fair to say that this time the year before I wouldn't have imagined that I'd have been sitting where I was this time last year, if you see what I mean. Sometimes things that you take for granted are more fragile than you think — but sometimes the reverse is true, too.

I'm in a reasonably good place right now. I can't complain too much. There are things I want to achieve and things that I could do better, but after surviving a year best described as "traumatic", I'm happy to take things a bit at a time and let this place track my progress — either directly or indirectly.

As for Kalam, well, buddy, I hope your site helps you find the same sort of inner calm that writing here has done for me. And if not, don't hold back. Everyone loves a good rant.

#oneaday Day 535: Updated My Journal

As I sit here on my friend Tim's spare bed (which just a few short moments ago had the entirety of Helm's Deep atop it) typing this entry using a piece of software that runs on a computer several thousand miles away from the tiny computer that I'm actually pressing the keys on which has no physical connection to this thing we call "the Internet", I'm reminded, as I often am, of how much things have changed.

I'm not that old — I'm thirty and, if not proud then certainly "grudgingly accepting" — but I still find the amount of progress since I was a kid to be fairly astonishing when you think about it. Take what I'm doing right now — writing a blog post — and rewind it some fifteen-plus years. I vividly recall as a youngling, early-ish in my secondary school career, writing a secret diary, inspired by Adrian Mole. Said diary was in a really nice part leather-bound volume that said "journal" on the spine and had nice paper. My first entry was about my family's visit to the National Stone Centre, in retrospect possibly the dullest way I could have possibly started a secret diary.

Over time, though, my writing evolved. I wasn't writing for anyone in particular, but more just to get thoughts out of my head when there wasn't anyone handy to share and discuss them with — or if they were thoughts that I didn't particularly want to share and discuss with people. In some senses it was like a form of therapy, where I could discuss anything I wanted with someone who wouldn't judge what I was saying, and would simply respond with an unspoken "tell me more" for as long as it had empty pages. My journal became less about "Today I went to the National Stone Centre and we saw lots of stones" and more about "I've been thinking about [girls/school/bullies/life] and this is what I feel about it".

I took to scripting fantasy conversations for a while, particularly when it came to talking to girls, because at least in the pages of my diary I stood a chance with Nikki, the girl with the finest boobs and legs in the whole school orchestra. In reality — well, I never quite found out whether or not I stood a chance with her, but given the general standard of guys she went out with, I'm not sure my greasy-and-crap-haired zit-faced teenage self would have stood up particularly well, however much better at playing the clarinet I was than her other boyfriends.

On one memorable occasion, I recall doing a lengthy post-mortem of an encounter with a girl I liked when my friends pretty much forced me to tell her that I liked her. She turned me down, of course, but the fact I'd actually gone through with it was immensely satisfying — so much so that I recall drawing diagrams of how the event had actually gone — where I was, where my friends were (doubtless watching and laughing at me making a tit of myself) and where she was.

In retrospect, it was perhaps a bit creepy, which is probably why one day I took a look at everything I had written, became hideously embarrassed by the whole thing and discreetly threw the by then half-full book out into the trash, never to be seen again. I often wonder what happened to it, and occasionally wondered if a bin man might have come across it and had a good giggle at my teenage lameness.

The world's different now, though, and the closest people come to a "secret" these days is posting passive-aggressive tweets and Facebook statuses. I still write — every day, as you've doubtless noticed. Sometimes the things I write are still therapeutic and a way of getting thoughts out of my head that are difficult to vocalise, and sometimes it's just stupid shit that I feel like rambling on about.

The difference now is that after 535 days, I'm not ashamed of a bit of it. Sure, some of it probably only has any meaning to me and me alone, but everything I've written here has some sort of meaning and memory attached to it. Which is why you won't find me ever throwing this blog out in the trash like my teenage secret diary. We are the sum of our memories and experiences, for better or worse, and sometimes it's good to look back and see how you got to where you are now — and where you might be headed in the future.

The future's not yet written, as everyone knows. But day by day it'll reveal itself, leading us ever onward to the end of one chapter and the start of the next.

#oneaday Day 66: Is Traditional Writing Dead?

It seems every other week, particularly in tech-related industries, there is some sort of discussion over whether this or that is "dead". Inevitably, the answer is usually some vague waffle about how most people may have stopped using their Nokia N-GAGE but there are a few people out there utterly determined to beat Tomb Raider on a portrait-wise screen on a device which can survive being run over by a bus (I speak from experience) and thus the thing in question isn't dead, just on perpetual life support. Until it gets run over by one bus too many, of course.

A discussion I participated in earlier today on Twitter regarding grammatical usage of hashtags got me thinking, though. Is the concept of "traditional writing" dead?

When considering this, though, it's first important to determine what you mean by "traditional writing". And it's not an easy thing to define. Is this blog "traditional writing"? It mostly follows grammatical conventions (except when I'm being deliberately obtuse or conversational) and uses paragraphs. But no; I'd argue that it isn't writing in the traditional sense. Blogs are designed as a platform upon which people can share their thoughts on a subject and invite responses from other people. That last bit—the invitation for other people to respond, whether or not it's taken up by commenters—is the important part of blogging for many people. The best blogs are "conversations"—or at the very least, pieces which start discussions amongst other people.

You could argue, of course, that persuasive writing, philosophy and the like has had this sort of thing covered for many years, and you'd be right—people still debate Nietzsche down the pub, right? (I don't go to the pub that often.) But the key thing is that with blogs and their commenters, everyone has a voice of (relatively) equal power. Ironically, though, the popular blogs diminish the power of their own commenters by having so many that people are unlikely to read them all. But at least some of them get read, unlike a weighty tome on all matters philosophical, in which those pub conversations rarely go any further than the pub.

Then there's Twitter, the reason I got thinking about this in the first place. Here's the kind of tweet that got me wondering:

We'll leave @tanaymodi1's absent apostrophe and misspelling of "myself" aside for a moment, and look at those hashtags. Being someone brought up on "traditional" writing and grammar rules, those hashtags in the middle of a sentence are somewhat jarring to me and interrupt the flow of what's being said somewhat. Now, in theory, the use of those hashtags allows anyone reading that tweet to click on either #AngryBirds or #Mac and read what other people are saying on those topics. A sensible idea for hot topics under discussion. But I've seen people do it with more vague concepts, such as "I'm writing a #novel" or "Is Sasha Grey a model of fashionable female #sexuality?" that could be taken in all manner of different contexts. Are they still useful?

Apparently so; a number of people came forward in response to my query and said that they find it useful to have the facility to find out what other people are saying on the subject. The only fly in the ointment, however, is that not everyone uses them. If I'm writing a tweet about my Mac, for example, I'll use the word "Mac" and have never, ever hashtagged it, if only for the fact it saves one of Twitter's precious 140 characters. The only time I use hashtags are if I'm participating in a discussion about something (like, say, a TV show that's on at the time) and appending the hashtag on the end of the tweet, for these blog posts or for #lamehashtaghumourthatifindquitefunnysometimes.

This is obviously a different use of writing to how it's used here on my blog, how I use it when writing for GamePro, how I use it when writing an email and how I'd use it if I were writing a book. But it doesn't mean that any of these forms of writing are "dead" or "dying". Increasingly what's happening over time is that things that were once on a relatively linear path, such as the evolution of language, are splitting off into separate branches with their own contexts and purposes. Some people stick resolutely to one path and thus find it rather jarring when something from one of the other paths invades their consciousness. Other people can happily jump back and forth between the different strands, adapting their language to the situation as they see fit.

So no. I don't believe that traditional writing is dead, nor is it a niche interest that only a few dedicated souls are continuing with. It's simply one branch of an increasingly-complicated tree. As we find ourselves with more and more different means of communication available to us, language adapts, changes, broadens. And it will continue to do so for some time.

Where does it stop? Will (English-speaking) people on Twitter end up speaking their own language that looks a bit like English but isn't? Perhaps not. But it's something to ponder.

#oneaday, Day 29: Dedicated to Dedication

It's hard to talk about your own good qualities without appearing conceited and self-obsessed. But I think we know each other well enough by now for you to be aware that I'm normally one for focusing on the negative things about myself. As such, a rare celebration of Something That I Am Good At should be applauded.

Go on, applaud. (You don't have to applaud. But good on you if you genuinely started applauding there.)

I have absolutely no hesitation in my mind when someone asks me what my best quality is. Without a doubt, it's my dedication. If I start something, by God I'm going to finish it come hell or high water. It may take a long time, it may take lots of swearing, but I am going to do it.

This blog is perhaps the most immediate example of this, now a year and ten days of daily posts strong, but there's plenty of other instances in which this characteristic of myself shows itself. Let's take today, for example, I woke up in a foul mood and decided after a bit of moping around, a bacon sandwich and two cups of coffee that I was going to go out for a walk in an attempt to clear my head a bit. And it was going to be a "long" walk.

I didn't have a particular route in mind, nor did I have a particular distance planned. I just set off, pointed in a particular direction and started walking. I reached the next village over from where I live—always a strangely satisfying thing to do, like you've made some sort of epic journey—and turned back. I eventually came to a crossroads where I had three choices; go back the way I came (the "short" way), turn right and do a big "loop" around the other next village over (the "moderate" way) or turn left and do an unnecessarily massive "loop" (the "long" way). Guess which way I picked?

That's right. The long way. I realised shortly into my journey up the long way that the long way was, in fact, considerably longer than I had anticipated, and the fact that I was wearing twice the number of layers on my top half than on my bottom half meant that my torso and head were lovely and toasty, while my testicles were slowly turning into ice blocks. It would have been easy to turn back from the long way and head back via the short way—I hadn't got that far. But no; I decided I was going to stick out this journey however long it eventually ended up being. (A total of 12.5km altogether, if you were wondering.)

Some may call that stubbornness. Some may call it bloody-mindedness. Some may call it stupidity. I call it dedication to see something through once you start it. And it's something that's a regular part of my life. I like that about myself, and it's not often I get to say that.

#oneaday, Day 18: Why Blog?

Mark Fraser wrote a great post earlier today on the nature of blogging—particularly daily blogging—and the reasons we do it. In this post, I thought I'd explain why I do it. It seems like a faintly topical thing to do, especially since tomorrow marks one year since I started writing daily. One year. 365 entries, most of which are around the 500-1,000 word mark. That's a lot.

So why do it?

Because I enjoy it.

Shit, that sounds like far too simple an answer, and at the end of this sentence that's only 93 words. That's not enough for the arbitrary minimum I set myself back when I started.

But it's the truth. The reason I write this blog is because I enjoy it. Sure, it's great that some people come and read it. Some people are even subscribed to it (that's dedication for you). Other readers have undoubtedly come and gone. Some are recent additions to my little family of readers (oh, you, I love you all) but, you know, the only reason I'm writing this is because I enjoy it. The fact that you lot out there in readerland seem to enjoy some of the things I write is a happy bonus that I wouldn't exchange for anything.

I can tell when something I post is going to be a big hit, though. When I posted about Kevin Smith's unfortunate experiences with Southwest Airlines, I saw a big spike in people reading. Similarly, when I bitched about that ridiculous campaign on Facebook where everyone changed their avatar to a childhood cartoon, I had, I think, the most daily hits I've ever had. Which, given that the daily cartoon for that particular post featured someone masturbating furiously, was something of a bittersweet success. So to speak.

The thing is, though, I don't deliberately court readers. The notion of "hit-chasing" is seen as a necessary evil in the world of online journalism, which is why we get so many games sites lowering the tone with "OMG BEWBZ" articles, because that will get the clicks from the horny teenage boys who supposedly populate the Internet. Unfortunately, it seems to work, leading to something of a self-perpetuating cycle. Similarly, the Daily Mail undoubtedly enjoys a massive spike in traffic by posting something completely cuntish like they did the other day. Go find it yourself, I'm not linking to those bastards again.

But this site? No. This is for me. It's selfish but it's true. I'm very lucky to have some friends who enjoy reading my work and appreciate my stupid cack-handed cartoons—and occasionally some random strangers, too. Writing this blog every day is something fun to do that I look forward to. It's helped me work my way through some difficult times. And it's helped my writing as a result.

Basically, I don't play the game in the same way Mark describes. At least not consciously. But one thing I do enjoy is being an active part of the One A Day Project community—one of the reasons I decided to step up and try and organise the whole thing this year was based on one of the most common complaints last year: there was no sense of community. There was no "centralised" place for people to come together, and some of the participants weren't even aware of each others' existence. This led to the situation where there were only six people left at the end of the year. (Ironically, of course, this led to us becoming friends, as six blogs are much easier to keep up with than 160.)

This year, though, we're already seeing people posting some cool responses to each others' posts as standalone entries in their own right, some discussion and banter on Twitter, and I know of at least a couple of awesome friendships that have already formed as a direct result of all this.

So while I primarily still write for my own amusement, catharsis and/or personal development, I feel it's important to say that I do appreciate the community of other bloggers out there, some of whom might be reading this right now.

Kissy kissy. Wuv yooo.