If you don’t know where it is you want to go, you’re not going to know when you get there.
After so many years when this website was either neglected by the writer, ignored by readers or sabotaged by hackers from Croatia, I don’t quite know what to do, now that the site’s health and future availability have not-so-suddenly returned.
I do know that I have not been comfortable with PUSHING posts into reader-subscribers’ email inboxes via Substack. I’d much prefer readers be DRAWN to this twenty-year-old website where I lay out what I want to tell them, and they come when and if they want to read the latest installation.
I have a pretty good idea that I will be both the only writer and the only reader for any words or pixels added here over the uncertain months ahead. But I am investing in Fragment’s future continuity because I have poured so much of myself into it since May of 2002 when it began. It is my commonplace book, natural history journal and scrapbook. If there is a single place to come to revisit memories of places, people and those very many topics of peculiar personal interest for Fred First, this is it. And it matters to Fred First. End of story.
But honestly, I don’t know where I want to go with Fragments. By now, I have settled in at Substack, like it or not, for two and a half years. I have a few readers there, and even some paid subscribers to whom I feel responsible for content worth their investment.
And yet, of the 135 subscribers, less than half open and read the posts. So let’s say 60 read some portion of a post, and of them, 2 or 3 will typically click on any link provided. Why do I bother? I’m obviously not reaching readers with the things I choose to write about. How important is that? And am I motivated to spend an equal amount of time posting here on this blog, newly taken off the vent, with even fewer readers now that blogrolls have dried up and everyone is off tweeting or on the Book of Face.
I confessed in the title: I’m kinda lost in space. So what I can predict with a high degree of uncertainty, is that, going forward, I will not be concerned with a readership here. It will be my private journal with the front door open and the book laid out for anybody who happens to drop by and peruse my curios and precious things. And he is still the Strange Farmer of Erehwon.