The Sound Of Curation Jail

Summary

The article reflects on the disappointment and abandonment felt by the author after their work was no longer curated by a prominent Medium curator, likening the experience to being in "curation jail."

Abstract

The author of the article expresses a deep sense of loss and betrayal after their articles, once gaining traction and true fans, suddenly lose visibility and engagement due to the silence of a curator they believed to be a steadfast ally. This curator, whom the author had considered a significant other in a professional sense, had seemingly moved on without warning, leaving the author feeling trapped and forgotten in the metaphorical "curation jail." The author reminisces about the close connection they felt with the curator, evidenced by personal items left behind, and laments the abrupt end to what they thought was a lasting partnership. The piece concludes with a nod to Susan Brearley for the writing prompt, a thank you to readers for their engagement, and a call to action for readers to subscribe to a newsletter and read related articles.

Opinions

The author initially felt they had secured a strong relationship with a top curator, which has now been lost.
The silence from the curator has led to a decrease in visibility and engagement for the author's articles.
The author perceives the curator's departure as a betrayal, akin to being abandoned in a metaphorical prison.
There is a sense of disillusionment regarding the transient nature of professional relationships on platforms like Medium.
The author hints at a feeling of being replaced or forgotten, as the curator moved on to other interests or authors.
Despite the setback, the author remains engaged with their audience, encouraging comments, corrections, and newsletter sign-ups.

My articles lost in the void of silence

Hello, curator my old friend. I have come to talk with you again. Because ours has been quickly building. And now it seems it reached its peak. In the sound of curation jail.

And the true fans I was gaining. Slowed down when you went silent. It seemed you moved to another gal.

In curation jail, I wallow with others. Hiding in the corner waiting for release. I can’t believe you left after one night. Plans of forever long forgotten. In the sound of curation jail.

Fools said I, I snagged myself the top curator. He has eyes only for me. Read my words and see how I do it. He curated me while in my apartment.

The smell of your cologne lingers on my pillows. You left your toothbrush and favourite sweats. I thought this was forever. Our love was built to last; we would ride into the sunset. Under the shadow of forbidden love.

Here I sit in curation jail. You left me without a warning. All I hear is the sound of silence.

Thanks to Susan Brearley for the writing prompt.

As always, thanks for reading. Keep the comments and corrections coming.

SONG LYRICS

The Sound of Curation Jail

My articles lost in the void of silence

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