Compaesthetics

Am I trying too hard now, on the making up words thing? I know it's not as fun to say as Tartiversary, or as clever as Procrastinakeding... but it gets across what I want to talk about...



I was supposed to have a guest blogger today, but I didn't hear from her. Now I have a hard enough time keeping track of things in my life that I can hardly blame her if I fell off the radar screen... or if communication fell apart—her email address didn't work for me—she may not even know she was expected! But a couple WEEKS ago I was supposed to have a guest, and when I sent the reminder “Hello? Where's your blog, please?” I got back a very sweet, apologetic note that she wasn't comfortable with the content on my blog.

FAIR ENOUGH. As much as I may encourage all o' y'all to get naked and you go along or ignore me as you will, YOU ALL are here because you picked it. I am at the VERY LEAST not out of your comfort zone (very far—or you are twisted and LIKE me pushing you out of your comfort zone). The guest blogging circuit, on the other hand, gets their suggested assignments for where to visit and may know NOTHING about it until... you know... it's time to go.

Party Metaphor



Since we are such a fun group, lets say all these blogs are parties, and people roam from party to party, doing their sampling of this fare and that. Then somebody comes along and helpfully says, “Hey! I'm part of the Music Association and I can get some bands to cycle through!”



And everybody at my blog starts singing “Louie, Louie” and shouting “Toga! Toga! Toga!” and who should show up, but a gospel singer? Now some of you limboing, toga wearing party nuts really LIKE gospel, and are going to be a perfectly good audience (all o' ya would be NICE)—but Miss Gospel singer looks out at the crowd smearing honey on each other and taking belly shots and she is REALLY uncomfortable, because... you know... she's over-dressed. And it's MY PLACE so nobody WORE their church clothes. Even people that LIKE all that, are hard to see! You are the nicest, most receptive people in the world, but all she is seeing is the line-up of fine man-butts I have arranged.





Now if it were ME, I figure I'd just cater who was there—alter my content accordingly. But I also don't write anything really incompatible with... well... anything... My reputation as an author is hardly going to be slandered because I show up somewhere. The Erotica authors might poke fun because the most sexually graphic part of my cozy is an occasional goosing, but me showing up THERE can hardly be any worse that what I get up to HERE. In reality, exposing myself to varied audiences is the best way to... you know... grow my audience. Or so I see it.

There are writers, however, who have more stake in keeping up some respectability, and I respect that. Compatible Aesthetics are the right of any of us, and it is not up to me to call it.



THAT SAID, none of us should be afraid to say that. Something isn't going to work out? Say so. Communicate. Let people know. Because even the naked among us need to keep up the professionalism so that Tarts don't have to fly by the seat of their pantslessness any more than necessary... if you know what I mean...