The “Surreality” of Medium
Do you feel it, too?
I’m in a weird mental state today. Recently, life has begun to feel like a David Cronenberg flick or a Twilight Zone episode and I am one of the bit players.
The world around me seems fuzzy. Disjointed. My anxiety tempered by the Xanax I seem to need more frequently.
The hacking of my Facebook account has contributed to this, along with the steady stream of morons who “reach out” to me on LinkedIn and Twitter. Losers who want money, which I don’t have, or some “strange,” which I do — or both. As a result, I have become increasingly obsessed about online security. I was stunned to realize that I’d never installed anti-virus software in my iMac. The shit you think “comes with” your computer, and doesn’t.
I took care of that last night.
“Vulnerability” is not my hallmark. It doesn’t feel right. At least, for me. I’ve worked very hard on this exterior — buffing, insulating, toughening up the outer Sherry in an attempt to protect my fragile psyche from the often-ugly realities of life. Does it work? Sporadically.
Yesterday, I allowed a bunch of stupid shit to drag me down. I threw myself a pity part and had one hell of a time.
As I was wallowing in the steaming pile of funk, I received an email from the Medium Gods demanding that I remove my story about the creep who asked for my banking information because his country doesn’t have stripe. They gave me a two-hour window. I can’t help but wonder, what would have happened if I hadn’t seen the email? If I was actually disengaged from my devices for a time. You know: Like running errands. Would they have “fired” me? Banned me from this platform?
I can understand their concern as I’m sure the legal ramifications for “public shaming,” as they referred to it, can be dire, but what about the threat to me? He’s the one who perpetrated the wrongdoing, yet I had to remove my piece which was expressly written to alert the rest of the Medium community.
I did not use his name, but I did call out his publication. I admit, that was a mistake on my part. That said, the investigation is still “ongoing,” so we’ll see how it pans out.
Ohhh, doggie. The up and down, duck and cover, never-know-what-you’re-gonna-get rodeo ride that is Medium. Plugging away, day after day, obsessing over stats and payouts and fans is sucking the juice right out of this over-ripe melon. But that’s my problem, correct? I’m the one letting it happen. Or, am I? Are there nefarious influences at work, here?
Lately, I’ve noticed that, amid the wonderful writers and genuine human beings who create beautiful, engaging content in a variety of plucky pubs, lurk trolls. Yes. People who follow writers for the sheer purpose of reciprocation. Even though they haven’t written a word. What’s up with this? What could they possibly hope to gain?
On the other side of the coin are those individuals who are just plain strange. Like the recent lug nut whose preferred platform appears to be porn, given her Medium handle and the profile pic of her bare ass in a thong. This person followed me. WTF???
Inexplicably— I’ve lost a few followers over the past week. This is concerning up to a point. Some of these folks are probably devoid of the requisite number of brain cells required to read and assimilate content. Others? Who can say? What was my sin? To the best of my knowledge, I haven’t personally pissed anyone off, other than to not follow back in a timely fashion. But, to them I say “tough shit.”
So, yeah. Medium is feeling a bit surreal to me. Even the Facebook groups, which I do love. But — so many new people, every day that need attention. Stroking. Confirmation. Validation. Masturbation. You know what I’m talking about. And, as I don’t want to leave anyone out — I try my best to give as many writers as I can my due diligence, but there are days when I crumple like a used dryer sheet.
But, I’m trying people. I am.
I need to write more. I know this, as I’ve been lagging over the past few weeks. I haven’t pumped out my goal of one story a day. This is on me and I’m working hard to get my mojo back. I’m giving her all the things she shouldn’t have, like wine, because if she doesn’t get it, she is relentless in her bedevilment.
Even as I contemplate new story ideas, I tell myself I should disappear from Medium for a week and work on my scripts. But something “keeps pulling me back.” Much like Al Pacino’s character in the Godfather. Not to mention, a week off would seriously fuck with my stats.
Yep. Those stinkin’ stats. Why do we care when we’re supposed to be here for the love of our art? We’re here to write. Right?
What I’m putting down here is anything but new. There has been a plethora of stories and comments about “writers needing to write” and fuck the rest. “Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly,” and all that. But, I still believe, in our core, we want the validation that we’re not just good enough — but great. Kick-ass, in fact. At the top of our games, every one of us.
Tell me I’m wrong.
Is there a seductive element afoot? Maybe. I never thought of Medium as “sexy,” per se, although I did write about the this very thing. You can check it out here, as I’m not above shameless self-promotion.
I know this surreal episode will pass. It usually does. In the meantime, I’ll be reading you guys. Reading, clapping and, if you’re not afraid to get a little crazy — following, too.
Cheers.
Sherry McGuinn is a longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.
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