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[censored]

I unexpectedly fell face-first into the issue of ‘net censorship this weekend. And it looks like I’m the villain.

In principle, I have always been opposed to censorship. When I think of censorship, I think of a tight-lipped, tight-assed old lady (or man) who takes a black marker to any library book that she doesn’t throw on the bonfire. Censorship inhibits free expression and the exchange of ideas.

Having said that, I have to admit that I just deleted someone’s comment and the link to their site. My reason? Although it was a perfectly fine (but weird) comment, I was worried that it wasn’t appropriate for non-adults. And I have reason to believe that my site is visited by younger types who, in my humble opinion, probably shouldn’t be exposed to certain subjects just yet. His link I removed for the same reason.

To me, it’s a matter of responsibly gauging the audience and presenting material that is not offensive or even traumatizing for the wee ones. The last thing I want is for a 10-year-old to link to my site from a Lego fan site and get smacked in the face with inappropriate adult conversation topics. If there were no such links to my site, I wouldn’t censor a thing, unless someone called me a “poo-poo head” or something else (that I probably deserve).

Now that I’ve done this, how do I feel about censorship? I’m still opposed to censorship and suppression of ideas, but this kind of self-censorship is different. It’s more akin to avoiding the “F” word in front of children.

Then why do I feel like the tight-lipped old man with the black marker?

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Writer’s block

Things I can do to inpire me to write:

· Drink fifteen quadruple-strength coffees.

· Scour the news for ideas.

· Free writing: start writing complete crap and eventually it will work itself out into something.

· Think of a really good opening sentence, then stare at the screen until there are more words.

· Put said opening sentence at the end of the chapter/scene and write the scene so that it leads up to the sentence.

· Bash my head against the desktop repeatedly, while swearing at the top of my lungs. (Note: this one may annoy the neighbors.)

· Pick five random words from the dictionary and string them together into a sentence. Repeat hundreds of times until it’s finished.

· Read something by somebody really clever, then plagiarize. Then feel bad about it and delete everything.

· Juggle penguins. It doesn’t help me write, but the penguins seem to enjoy it.

· Ingest a mind-altering substance next to a keyboard. Check again later when consciousness is regained.

· Write stupid lists of things to do until I get a better idea.

()

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Nervous laughs

The Ready or Not meeting last night was busy. It was a full night with lots of entertainment — monologues, readings, songs, guitar.

Yesterday’s caffeine buzz bought me a monologue, which was read beautifully (without rehearsal) by Leanne, the chief architect of Ready or Not. And the comments were very helpful. “Dark” was one. And “disturbing”. Unfortunately, it was supposed to be a comic monologue, which is kind of worrisome.

Actually, I had intented it to be a little dark. Recently something I read in another blog started me thinking about how television is desensitizing us to suffering in others. Are cold, detached newscasts and the casualness of violence on tv dramas dissolving people’s empathy? Does the commercial message to focus on self encourages ego-mania on a scale no one has seen before?

Or maybe it’s those video games and rock and roll music. Kids these days.

Maybe I’ll post the scene, once I touch it up a little.

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An invocation of the jittery muse

It’s Sunday, which means tonight is the weekly Ready Or Not meeting. Naturally, I haven’t written anything worth reading to anyone. I had been hoping that inspiration would strike me sometime during the week and a brilliantly witty monologue or vignette would magically appear on my computer. Obviously that hasn’t happened.

I shall have to resort to my drug of choice: caffeine. I’ll just put on a bit of a buzz, and between visits to the bathroom, something creative is bound to happen. I hope.

Caffeine, do your magic.

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This Canuck can spell, eh?

As you may (or may not) have noticed, in this blog I favour the colourful aesthetic of Canadian spelling. In my defense, I consider it a matter of honour — I attempt to stay centred with my Canadian culture, and I will do so until I’m old and grey. If you’re sceptical, don’t be a hoser — check out this page on Canadian English.

Ande by thus goodly pointe forwarde, yon words be not a blog, but a “blogue”. Aye warrante it to bee ye truer forme of ye Englishe. Arrr.