The Prettiest Girl At the Dance

by robinhardwick


I spend most of my non-working time writing. Writing something. Tweets, blogs, humor pieces, essays, novels (coming out sometime in 2024). And writers exist for validation on my work, and I often sulk that no one is reading what I write.

So, why when something actually gets attention, I am SHOCKED that people are actually reading it? I get all embarrassed and surprised. As if I hadn’t been hoping and pleading for it all along. And, of course, it’s always the things that I spit out quickly and without much labor that get the traction. Not that I’m not proud of the piece, but my god, who do I have to blow to get someone to read my 3K word analysis of Harmony Korine?

Case in point, one afternoon after a particularly annoying training session, I rushed out to cafe and penned an annoying manifesto against shitty presentations. It was cathartic and pretty much throw-away. Medium decided to feature it and tweet it, which sent it to a ton of entrepreneur, start-up, business types (what I think of as their main audience). Some people really took to it, which of course, is very validating.

It’s also expected that the little alerts on my phone noting that it has been retweeted has had a Pavlovian effect on me. People would think this is a bad thing, but hey, I take what I can get. Back in the day Mark Twain (yes, I am comparing myself to Mark Twain) would send out a manuscript and then go back to his non-internet times and hope it did well. At least the little pings are saying “hey, someone read this.”

I’ll take it.