Bookkeeping and Promises

Instead of one of my pithier posts, you get something that is sadly inevitable, and long overdue: announcements, proclamations, and general bulleted noise-making.

Item 1. Site Design: I apologize if anarchy breaks out on the site any time in the next week or two; my Photoshop Maven and I are working on adding a bit of much-needed spice to this two-toned web experience. I'll be vigilant about not making the experience atrocious, but if you simply disagree with design elements, please wait until I've posted to say I've completed my renovations; I'll happily accept input and criticism then.

Item 2. Posting Schedule: This hasn't been entirely clear, partially because it hasn't been entirely clear in my head. So here goes: I try to post weekly, and have been since I really got the site off the ground. From here on out, the weekly post will be aimed at or around the area of Thursday (I'm running on Pacific Time, for those who need such a warning), with super bonus content here and there without warning, as dictated by the need to announce matters literary, link to something topical, or just generally to bibble and whine about something you might actually be coming here to read.

Now, that said, I won't apologize (too much) for missing a posting date; while I'll try to keep you abreast of things that will prevent a post from hitting when it should, and will definitely alert you if I'll be away from the blog for a significant period of time, I have no more interest than you do in seeing post after post that just says "I fail. I'm sorry.". I'd rather spend that time focusing on getting through whatever is delaying me out of the way and moving on to the business of posting again.

There, all that's out of the way. Now, onto issues of content.

What You Will See Here:

Thoughts about being a writer; updates on my life as a writer; movie reviews; book reviews, when I get around to reading newer books; snippets of fiction, here and there as the mood strikes and contracts allow; musings on current events; Internet-based oddities and curiosities, if I think them so excellent that they should go here instead of just sharing them over at Google Reader; occasional fits of bad literary humor; moaning about writer's block.

If any or all of these bothers you, that's why there's a comment function, and I encourage you to tell me what needs to go--I don't publish things on the Internet just for my own benefit.

What You Won't See Here:

• Macros: Cherie Priest can pull this off, but I lack the panache.


• Memes.


• Internet shorthand. Barring irony, leetspeak makes my teeth hurt.


• Posts about my personal life. (I make an exception for marriage and death.)


• Political humor: I get it. Bush is stupid. Hey, Barack Obama doesn't have political experience. Oh gosh, politicians sure do lie a lot! I'm not The Daily Show, and they're one of about three entities whose political jokes aren't flogging a dead horse.


• Posts that do nothing but link to someone else's post, followed by the textual equivalent of smiling and pointing excitedly.


• Any attempt to tell you how to cure writer's block. If you think you have a cure for someone else's writer's block, you're either not a writer or you think everyone thinks the way you do.


• My grocery list.


• Other peoples' fiction.


• Twitter posts: I don't have a Twitter account. Barring one or two decent parodies of the medium, I can't stand Twitter. No-one needs to know which utensil I'm picking up now. No-one needs to hear that I'm on my way somewhere and hear that on my way back. Anything that important is reserved for your closest friends or 911.

That's a solemn promise, down to the letter. Some bloggers can pull those off; sometimes irony can override my distaste for those items I consider mistakes; but I'm not some bloggers, and I prefer to direct my irony to other exercises. Again, if you want some of that, that's why there are comments. (But don't ask for Twitter posts. I won't do it.)

So, after all that content-free content, I don't know if I have another post in me. But soon--no later than next Thursday.

I swear.