the goblin showed up

Shadow had a feeling there was a metaphor in the goblin's message, but for the life of her she didn't have the brain capacity to find it at the moment. "Geez," she muttered, rereading the post and laughing helplessly.

"...simply the hardest part is starting a story is finding that first bit, one turns it over like a roll of type feeling for some bump to pull out, then once one has found the start, one pulls carefully extending the story, and then finally cuts it to shape here..." replied the goblin, simply in answer to the question set in the quote, the start is the hard part, adding "...ah, I get it, you have good eyes and nice nails so you never have the problem with finding the bump on a roll of type, um wait till you're my age, you will understand that post straight off..."

"That's it!" Shadow declared, pointing at the goblin with a grin of relief. "I knew there was a metaphor in there somewhere!"

To the last comment she simply giggled knowingly, neither confirming or denying it.

most everything about me is explained already somewhere, the "writer" bit comes next except that it doesn't in that I am not a writer, or that perhaps what most people think of as a writer is not my interpretation of one, simply "a writer is not what he has done but what he is doing", what of it, well nothing really, save that everything that I have ever written is dead at this point, set in the past, belonging to the Internet and utterly dead, so perhaps this "journey to self" of just "facing the slot" like now is what then..." the goblin paused knowing he couldn't quite bridge it, "...that "publishing" I feel, is for some fossil minded fame seeking type, whereas here, in this small triangle of computer/coffee/self, I have had all the live writing, interaction and anonymous fame that anyone could ever wish for..." ventured the goblin who knew deep down that he was lying, "...OK I admit it then, no there's never really is enough anonymous fame for this goblin it seems..." laughed the goblin at himself, that is, as if the result of being famous while still remaining anonymous really made any difference in the long run

repost from elsewhere, someone who had thanked him

"...nothing to thank me for really..." replied the goblin, adding "...only that nothing on this Internet is ever safe, therefore I need to store my stuff across as many sites as I possibly can, and while I can that is, so the effort is neither as selfless, nor as kind, as it may look then...", in fact, the goblin enjoyed all the sites he posted too, yes, but he never trusted them, nor the Internet for that matter, for any kind of permanence that is, "..."here one moment, gone the next" as they say, well that's our Internet for you...", ventured the goblin once more, while outside another dull day just progressed and passed on once more, though inside the bistro though, as if by contrast, the goblin's mind, constantly fueled on coffee and the odd croissant, ran full throttle through the new posts across all those forums, accepting that any book would probably be more concise, more educating and correct, true, and yet all those books had just one thing in common, they were in effect "dead and published", "...ah but you are not dead are you now, and for that reason alone I eagerly read through your posts never knowing what you might write next, so who should be thanking who here, perhaps we should be thanking each other now..."

how, strangely it seems now, that the goblin and the mommies went so far back together then, "...ah, those women and that realm of "women's interest", one which is always so strange to anyone uninitiated, well, I was at the time I remember..." ventured the goblin, adding "...but they're avid readers and a force in their own right on sites...", outside those relentless wheels of passing cars just crushed the fallen water of the wet road in that unmistakable sound of light monotonous rain, and inside too, the bistro resembled the goblin's props of a "last post" thread or whatever would equivocate to that in his real life here, till he just added "...creature of habit as I am, part of me always rebels against this course of least resistance that I choose for myself each time, for folks, I will never be that "meat and two veg" writer, that this all too "meat and two veg" existence is about...", it almost seems now that the mommies had somehow taught him to post against it

repost from elsewhere, the "what makes a good editor" thread

"...a good editor, is just someone who knows about reader's likes and dislikes..." mentioned the goblin who often let the admin or moderator be that editor then, adding "...and in this sense, if one knows that the admin and the mods want content, then it's a great moral boast for the contributors here, where again if things are bogged down to some accepted writing style, everything twee, members infighting, site rivalry, etc., which funnily enough all have their parallels in the publishing world too, one can't rely on the site for the "contributing content" vibe that most authors live on...", simply the goblin was saying that a good editor plays mum here, to which the goblin laughed, joking "...how about changing it to "what makes a good mum" then..."

repost from elsewhere

What makes an awesome character?

"...ah now, this again..." started the goblin remembering being asked this often enough, continuing "...well, if you believe in the character yourself, that's most of the battle won already, or I suppose one could complicate all this with generalizations which don't hold up much when actually reading author's works, or go into conjectures and calculations here, though more simply, if the author becomes the part, no matter how incredible that part may be, then it will be real to himself, whereupon, if the part is real to him now, the reader will jump on board, for remember that the reader does know it's fiction too, besides the depth of the character can be penciled in later, so first feel the plot and take possession of each character in turn, then let your fingers tap at the keyboard as if reciting to a blind man who is sitting next to you..."

I am saddened by the news of that site, and there i thought all would be well. Alas, i seem to see things wrong

"...already forgotten..." replied the goblin truthfully, adding "...well, there's a watershed moment coming, and my biggest fear is the opposite fate where "live writing" is accepted, and where the pioneers are then lost in the mainstream of writing once more...", simply the goblin was thinking of the scene in "the tin drum", where the dwarf stubbornly beats the drum against the nazi music and slowly the austrian band resorts to type and can't help playing waltzes, "...writing on this internet is not for that book world, no, ones posts are writing in themselves, and the more people post the more austrian they become by it..." mused the goblin now

("...I suppose whatever I post introduces me then..." said the goblin)

the witchdoctor smiled “...goblin, you think it's a recession because they have told you that it is one, but look at it more closely, every recession to date has been investors withdrawing their investment in late autumn, causing the market to slump, whereupon an injection of capital from either banks or governments props things up until, that too, proves futile and one has the recession for sure, but a recession, like its namesake, is supposed to eventually return things to what they once were are they not...”, to which the witchdoctor leaned closer to the goblin, continuing “...so now, with a trillion dollar debt and one dollar in ten going to service that debt too, and with far too much money in circulation anyway, and that ever unchanged "upside down demographic pyramid", still think it's actually a recession goblin..." at which, the witchdoctor took a deep breath, and then just continued "...it's a “default” goblin, financial musical chairs if you like where the music has stopped, america will survive goblin, but it has filed for chapter 13 in all but name now...”

repost from elsewhere

And make sure none of you Brits and Euros, and Americanos row your little boats down here, looking to migrate to the land of milk and honey, that is Australia! Only joking, you're all welcome to come, but can't guarentee you'll get past airport customs. They're a bit thorough here, with their search techniques.......

"...ah no, me, I am going to live on the internet now..." replied the goblin, adding "...oh yes, the old fart creates me still, though if he creates me well enough, I will take over from when he exits, well as an author till that moment then, and just as a book after that I suppose..."

repost from elsewhere

Hey. I'm pretty new to forums and anything like them, so I'm hoping for some friends. ^^ Anyone with any advice that stems beyond that which can be found within the helpful posts from the admins would be awesome. Thanks to anyone in advanced who posts.

"...a lot depends on what you really want to get out of your posting here..." started the goblin, welcoming the new member, continuing "...simply, I would be a normal poster making friends and chatting for a couple years, and then, when you feel you have done some posts that are worth keeping, start to store them somewhere, as that makes this posting more meaningful doesn't it, ah but then you'll have to repost those stored posts elsewhere too, if only to air/edit/backup them, and finally you might wish to add pictures too, since that is how one gets the illustrator's eye...", in fact, the goblin had really appreciated the poster's question now, but then remembered that no one was forced to take their own posting seriously now, but the goblin saw his posting as a "journey to self" here, and a wondrous journey it is


90

the goblin had an aversion to using "full stops" while posting, much as he did for "colons" and "semi colons", in that, what with modern day readers newly coming unstuck from the television and accidentally drifting in here like this, the goblin doubted that they would really know what those punctuation marks meant, so somehow the image of "...Scotty, damage report please...", "...captain, I don't know how long this vessel can take much more of those funny dots and dashes coming from the goblin there...", "...OK Bones, disengage then, set a direct course for "facebook"..." crossed the goblin's mind whenever any mad temptation to write normally arose

repost from elsewhere

"...valid point..." went the goblin who could only point out that writing isn't anything like that which one is imagining it to be here, when one starts out that is, nor that which one has bargained for either, "...there is always a risk of self deception here, that once one builds up a "shared life" with a muse, that one can then at some later point just unshare it, going back to just living on the surface without her again, simply it doesn't turn out like, for it, like a dream diary, or like someone who sees ghosts, is something where practice reinforces the whole sharedness of it..." mentioned the goblin, remembering "warning, last sanity test: you can't get her back into her bottle from this point", was hidden somewhere in the small print of the Muse's pact


36

"...thanks..." said the goblin knowing that when he tried he failed and when he didn't try it came to him, the goblin explained "...simply, the "muse's pact" changes the focus of ones life from "what do I want in life" to "what is worth posting in life", and there are three clauses of the "muse's pact" that remain constant throughout, their being "honesty", "a shared life" and "a thick skin", where the first and last clauses are obvious, but the second "a shared life" is only really understood by someone who has opened up to the muse...", at which point the goblin wondered if he was making sense, even to himself now, he continued though "...a writer doesn't know when, or what, idea will hit him, but the muse is constantly there and the writer lives with her somehow sharing their "dailylife" together 24/7...", "...in other words he's saying that you writers are raving schizophrenics..." went the voice in the background, where the goblin started twiddling his thumbs in escape mode wondering how he could get out of that accusation then but there seems no escape now


18

repost from elsewhere, a writer's site

Hey, it's insanity I'm hoping for.

"...music to my ears..." went the goblin who loved "borderline sanity", saying "...sanity is so predictable then, where writers should never be trapped by it, after all, the reader knows it's fiction too, and will follow the storyline if it is good...", in fact, on the surface the reader didn't think like that at all, and would always ask for something that made sense, but the goblin had long learned that, what the reader thought he wanted, and what the reader actually wanted, were two quite different things now, explaining "...actually, the reader wants to be surprised by what he reads, and who, I wonder then, is actually surprised by what they themselves predict, hence the concept of boarderline sanity here, something called "fiction" I believe..."

repost from elsewhere

"...if writing is no longer for you, then stop then, and by that you will know if you can stop or not that is, ah but at the same time you can't then blame others, nor externals, for your giving up here..." replied the goblin now, "...simply, that alone is all that is important, in that, if writing is for you, continue then, whereas if you are just doing it for others, just stop, because you mustn't write for others, that is a deception where your real writing will suffer for it, so in my view the next thing you write must really be for yourself or not all, but if you write it, that will be as a proclamation of self whatever words you choose, and I will help you in any way I can, for did I not promise that to you before somewhere..."

the masked ball continued, “...give me a picture and I will give you a post...” called the goblin across the audience adding “...you will test me and I will reward you...”, the goblin felt the spur of the audience kick hard into him now, he needed them he knew, “...come now, to post is to publish and to publish is to die, that's all...” but that was the goblin for you, simply he preferred to live in some “last post” thread as a live goblin, rather than in some book as a dead one,

"...oh no, the shame of it all, my posts are better accepted on "troll valhalla" than on most writers forums, this is not fair..." sighed the goblin, despairing of humanity now

repost from elsewhere

I like your thread goblin

"...nah, this isn't my thread either, it's just a "last post" thread here, anyone can post to it..." replied the goblin who wanted to openly share this thread then, saying "...the trouble with me is that there are two of us, one me who writes directly between brackets where things generally fall foul to those slings and arrows of outrageous dyslexia, and then there is that other me, who reposts stuff that has been clearly ironed out with some matching picture added, basically the "publishing" me, against the "posting" me perhaps, where both have their merits/demerits then...", simply, the goblin, in his madness, actually believed that it was a "journey to self" here, and yes, true the goblin had seen his dailylife for the rat-race it actually was, and yet, instead of "stopping to smell the flowers on the way", he was now writing about those same flowers then, as if the rat-race had been replaced by the rat's very own "freestyle composition with matching picture in less that 50 words please" benchmark here, so either way, the rat just scurried on it seemed totally unable to stop itself

"I enjoy your posts greatly, I can say," the werepire said, offering the goblin a smile. "Though I haven't exactly been replying to any," her face became sheepish, "I've definitely liked reading them. You have a very cool outlook on the world. It's kinda hard for me to reply to these sort of things just cus they're so much cooler than anything I could say - and that's seriously the truth."

the goblin too, liked this forum, made him feel young again at times

repost from elsewhere, the troll's "last post" thread

nah leave the thread here then

the goblin agreed, in that, if this thread were actually a game, then most threads here would wind up in the games section, "...for with this thread you are given full license to troll again..." said the goblin who first suspected that under that thin veneer of troll lurked an active mind fraught with such intellectual aspirations that only a thread like this could hope to rectify, saying "...yes thats right, simply you need to prove to yourselves your inability here, that way all those nasty aspirations will disappear, and you will be happy being some poor troll again

repost from elsewhere, the goblin passing up on somewhere

"...thanks xxxxx, win/win for us then, but isn't it ironic that they first lock my thread because I repost there, and then remove your posts thinking that they deleted the originals too, so simply, the need to repost, thus saving the original becomes all the more evident, where and when sites like there resort to that sort of practice..." mentioned the goblin, who knew that a live writers could never really be edited, nor stopped for that matter, if only because they were never fully on any one site, so "air/edit/backup" was simply a tool in outflanking any resistance that one might come across

impressed, where do you get those pictures from goblin

"...yes well, they're by two absolutely amazingly prolific artists called photobucket and imagashack, who are free image hosts..." joked the goblin at it, adding "...no, the real problem is finding one of their pictures that matches ones text then, simply one has to go through thousands of pictures to find the right one, which can mean months between the writing the text, and finally finding the one picture that says it all, so that's why reposting is no shame then, not for me at least, where there's no rush, and where it just has to be the right picture..."