Has been an interesting first 11 days on WordPress. Really enjoying it. Loving the people; the other writers. Same as I did on Medium.
The biggest difference between WordPress and Medium is that WordPress presents the artist’s content front and centre — offering a real content management system for it, on the FRONT end.
Added bonus, if you’re a WordPress user (WordPress.com, at least; not sure how it works for the self-hosted bloggerati out there): there’s this hidden blessing—a kind of rear-window/alleyway situation, sort of like where the cooks in inner-city restaurants go out to smoke in the dusk, listening to the honk and whistle of traffic out on the streets, watching the pigeons and transient people rifle through the bins. An other-worldly twilight place where they can give a friendly, understanding nod to neighbouring cooks, and even plan in advance which cooks they might run into, on their smoke breaks.
The real cook in the real alley is limited in what he sees (except in his imagination). The content cook, on WordPress, however, can make the alleyway change, with just a few clicks of the keys. Add a door to this, here; a window to that, there. Portals through time and space; passageways to kindred spirits (or not) from all walks of life.
Whereas on Medium, the platform itself is front and centre, like a newspaper’s front pages. The artist’s corner of the publication is accessed through the back end (no pun intended).
Also, there’s a difference in the type of content that gets “likes,” between WordPress and Medium. The content required to show up in Medium’s spotlight is rarely literary, but rather flash-in-the-pan political-hype-type stories, underpants-on-the-line type stories (guilty), with a steady drip of self-help/writing advice injections (also guilty). For the queen and king of the latter (thanks for the pairing, Adrien Drew), think Kris Gage and Zat Rana.
Zat Rana: A golden spider on the ceiling of the Louvre. Beautiful images, carefully synergized pieces, a weaver. You read his work and marvel; you’ve been introduced (or re-introduced) to something complex, but in such a way that makes you feel like you’ve mastered it, when you haven’t yet begun. Later, pondering these, as you thoughtfully wipe the dishes or sweep the floor, picking at the specks with the edge of your nail, you find yourself spending more time thinking about the webs made by the golden spider in the Louvre, rather than the artworks they describe. Savouring its finely-spun cotton candy for the soul.
Kris Gage: Spaghetti with meatballs. No nonsense, standard fare. Dolloped with chunks of spicy content you can bite into and savour; food that sticks to your ribs. You’ll digest it for a while and feel satisfied. If you’re finely tuned in, you’ll have the feeling she does all her real weaving behind the scenes, and one day will show up with some marvellous, intricate tapestry that she’ll hang on the wall of her own restaurant, late at night when no one’s looking. Then, while she’s slinging beer and meatballs to the customers, someone will say, “Wow, nice tapestry. Where’d you get it?” And she’ll be like, “Made it myself. Took years. You can buy prints of it on Amazon, for $9.99.”’
What I always find the most interesting, is how we cooks, we weavers, are really alone, a lot of the time, in our so-called “spare time,” at least. You have to be, to have the time to produce so much. Yet we are all connected, all in easy reach of one another, through the vast tapestry of the Word Wild InterWebs.
Thanks for being here. Hope to read you soon.