I call it the sexy negligee syndrome

Writing is a process that involves supposition, and supposition, unless you’ve really read the signs correctly, hardly ever works.

It’s a bit like the man who buys his wife a diaphanous and sexy negligee or a pair of ever-so filmy panties, and says to himself: “She’ll love these.” No she won’t. The point is, you love them. She is happiest in her flannel jammies and great big granny pants. And that is her right.

So, I can write something, and I did this for years as a columnist, in which I would convince myself, this is really, really good and the readers will be dazzled. But, like my wife with the teeny panties, that’s as maybe. The point is, I like the piece, but how dare I presuppose?

I wrote columns that I was convinced were virtually Pulitzer material and I received no response whatsoever about them, even from colleagues. I was given to going around the newsroom asking: “What’d ya think of the column? Tell me. Didya like it? Didya-didya-didya?” Only to receive such comments as: “Oh, I must have missed that one. I’ll check it out later,” or “Interesting idea,” or “I found it a bit confusing, but that’s just me.”

I also wrote columns when I was overtired, hungover (back then), suffering marital woes (regularly), rapturously in love, anxious, depressed, bitter, lethargic and lazy, that were utter throwaway crap and had only been crashed off to meet a deadline.

People loved those ones. I was told how funny they were, thought-provoking, at the top of my form, etc. etc. I would get phone calls about them, and letters to the editor. I would be invited to speak at clubs and organizations because of them, and even won awards due to them.

I was egocentric enough that such responses were invariably welcomed, yet I always wondered why I didn’t get such responses to my self-conceived ‘good ones.’

Blogging is a bit the same. I can labor over a blog that I think is an utter gem of the genre, and receive little or sometimes no response. I can write what I think are silly throwaways and I’ll get 20-plus comments.

Other bloggers I know and respect have expressed the same sentiments. Indeed, one blogger, whom I respect and also understand his motivations, has suggested he is going to start scrapping people from his blogroll who do not respond. It’s his blog, and he is entitled. I still read him and make comment because I often like what he has to say.

Anyway, there is no figuring the tastes of the reading public, which is why trashy potboilers do well, and works of literature are, well, works of literature.

Now, since I don’t know where I am going with this any longer, I can only say it all boils down to the frilly peignoir syndrome.