William Gibson on fanzines, blogging, and formality:

One of the reasons, I’m convinced, that I’ve been able to produce even the few novels I have is that, almost from the start, I largely swore off less formal avenues of literary expression. The culture of SF, particularly, seemed to me to be studded with truly scary examples of talented writers who had chosen to sublimate their energies in SF’s native (and relatively ancient) fanzine scene, the geniuses of which (and there arguably were a few) eventually (and perhaps inevitably?) evolved their own equivalents of blogging.

It’s the “conversational” aspect, I think, that keeps this kind of writing from really getting off the ground. You see the initial lift into heightened language, into intent, but when the wings begin to wobble (as they invariably will) there’s always the option of safe and instantaneous descent back into a fundamentally informal relationship with the reader. There’s no risk involved.

Unless, if you’re accustomed to playing for higher stakes, it’s the risk of some edge being taken off your game.

I think I spend (waste?) more time here in grinding the compositional gear-train (perhaps because I feel I’ve got more to prove?) than does Mr. Gibson for his blog, but I take his point. In fact, I’d take it farther, and argue that it’s not just in the ‘zine scene that we see those truly scary examples; it can happen to the best of the genre’s “formal avenues,” too.

And for a writer, that cozy familiarity with the reader is far too easy a trap to fall into, particularly when you and your hazy notion of an ideal reader are both members of the same amiable and homogenous community.

It’s not that the beer and chicken wings aren’t important. Just not while we’re on duty.

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Update: Just to be clear, I didn’t mean the above as an attack on blogging, or an attack on ‘zines, or anything like that. What it really is, is a reminder to myself to be on guard — in my fiction — against writing only (or even primarily) for the comrades on my shift in the Ol’ Baloney Factory.

(As for what I write here, I’m not aspiring to 21st century journalism. And the real 21st century journalists in the blogiverse don’t need the reminder.)