The homicide of reading


Blood is on the wall in libraries around the world
(Photo courtesy of

Are you serious?  WTF?  Questions I tend to agree with.  Writing this post as a lover of comic books seems hypocritical.  For a person who gets slightly too excited about a great movie, pinning these comments, seems a bit odd.  But as a passionate lover of photography this topic is downright insane.  Good morning people, I am Dr Jeckyl, I will now introduce you to  Mr Hyde.

WordPress tracks every like per post.  Calm down, I know there’s a few of you reading this thinking, “No shit Sherlock.” I’m trying to make a point.  Yesterday I realised that of my ten most liked posts, seven of them are photos.  I went into a slight sate of panic.  In those frightening moments several thoughts raced through my mind.  (1) My writing is terrible and people feel sorry for me therefore they just like my photos.  Like the proverbial pat on the back. (2) My stories are too long and boring and that is why the wife sometimes fall asleep when I talk. (3) My own conceived sense of humour doesn’t actually exist, thus turning my dreams of doing stand-up into dust.

Yes, I do feel slightly melodramatic this morning, like a drag queen without a wig.  I want to piss and whine so that by the end of this post I will feel better.  After taking my S&M whip out of the closet and beating myself with it, it dawned on me…

It might not be my writing… I said, might not…

When followers/bloggers/readers/stalkers see photo posts in the reading panel they don’t have to do much.  Basically it boils down to looking at the picture, deciding if they like it, and if they do, (which still sort of amazes me), they click the like button.  Yeah!

Written posts are slightly more complicated.  Not brain surgery, or flying a Boeing, but just a tad more involved.  They see the heading, then they read the first paragraph, if it intrigues them, they look at their watch and decide whether continuing would be worthy of their time.  If by the grace of God they finish the story and they like it, then BAM, they press like and I orgasm immediately.

For the photies out there, if takes a lot of hours to write that frigging opening paragraph.  Selecting words, that not only capture the essence of the story, but crafting the bait as expertly as we can, hoping that it might catch the eye of one or two of the million readers browsing daily.  We create these dreaded opening paragraphs using our own tools, like photographers would use rules of third, composition, lighting and focus.  Hoping that the choices we make would raise the interest level so that someone might actually finish reading the story.  And don’t get me started on the title.  Fuck.  I have spend hours, days, months contemplating titles.

In the end I don’t blame the bloggers, I blame pictures for the homicidal attack on reading.  Modern man (and woman) has become so accustomed to a microwave way of life.  Everything is about speed and convenience, like lasagne, chicken soup, noodles, fast cars, e-mail and movies.  How many of us have appreciated the finer nuances of novels like Hunger Games or the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo before seeing the movies?  Do we realise that our imagination is a way better director than any previous Oscar winner?

I love taking pictures, and I know a good one is worth a thousand words, but it’s damn hard to relay a story in a way that would spark the interest of people.  It takes time, time and time.  Knowing this, as an avid reader, aspiring writer and photographer wannabe, I am slightly schizophrenic.

I do appreciate every like I ever got on my blog and me loving the followers; goes without saying, but you see, rambling in writing makes me feel better.

And you know what, if people like my photo’s more than my writing, I am down with that.  Besides, my son and a few other faithful ones likes them stories. Life’s good.


4 thoughts on “The homicide of reading

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