What a great post. And yes, I laughed....

CW, I did some stand-up in the mid-80s and there is no greater punishment for a human on this earth. Nothing worse than coming onstage at midnight to a roomful of drunks wanting to hear fart jokes from a Renaissance Man.

My stuff consistenly went over their heads like a very unfunny, out-of-control U-2 spy plane. (As with the general population, there was always that table in the back with two or three people (.01%?) with above-room-temperature IQs who were laughing their asses off.)

Then comes the crash. A six-foot four guy in the front row with his feet propped up on the stage. "Hey, ghrflwm, YOU AIN'T FUNNY!"

whirrrr-kerspalt!

I was hauled out of the wreckage by management and put into a small mentally constructed cell with Gary Powers and Low-Self Esteem. Call my wife! Call Eisenhower! Call somebody!

(Don't try this at home.)

holy... frijole... ohhhh shark. Stand up. Hey, you and me, man, on the road, what say? We'll do Nebraska, the nursing homes. We'll kill! Anybody tries anything, we take down the whole room.

U2, Eisenhower, Gary Powers -- I get it. I get everything!! Writers writing for writers, sweet jesus, anybody seen any readers around here?

I think I saw one about a week ago. Somebody left me a comment on my blog, The Apologist. I didn't recognize the name or the spelling or the logic of what the person was trying to say so I assumed it was a reader. It was like seeing my first American Eagle, only just the tail as it disappears down the mousehole. It was probably just a disturbance in my vitreous fluid; something I thought I saw. But it pays to slow down and keep your eyes pealed. Peeled? Wha? Don't want to run over no readers, man. There might only be three or four, just wandering from post to post, over and over, just to make us feel good and relevant.

Well, I'm sorry. I don't feel relevant.

Um. You just made me,the reader, feel irrelevant. :0( And I don't do it to stroke your ego, I would have to charge you for that, and then we'd go getting into the "you would do it for nothing if you really loved me" argument.

Sheri, Sheri Baby, please don't leave me! I didn't know you were there. Of course I'll do it for free. Of course I love you. What is it you'd like done? Name it.

Very fine, honest but deeply troubling post, CW. First, you can never gain validation and security from the outside. Second, the Internet has changed the playing field, but not that much. I am not necessarily an exemplar of anything, but I have used the Internet for the last two years as an advertisement of my writing, thinking, organizational, and even - God forbid - managerial abilities. It takes time and it takes marketing (yes, the "advertisement" requires marketing to be noticed) but as long as the material is there - and it is there both of your cases - then it's just a matter of time, and adjusting to the new environment. See it as a challenge rather than a black hole of despair - it really isn't all that bad, swear.

And regarding "feedback": you know the answer as well as I do. There are three basic kinds: positive, critical but reasonable, hateful. Cling to the positive, absorb and respond to the critical, and ignore the hateful, or do what I do and about every fifth one threaten the hell out of the motherfucker in the strongest possible terms. I have never heard back yet from someone I have threatened - of course I am crazy and crazy gets you some latitude.

Anything? Hmmmmmmmmm ;0)

CW, I think you should remove the restrictions placed on yourself by adding "comedy" to the "writer" description: just be a writer. Let readers decide what kind of writer you are. I can say one thing for sure, you're good. Your observations are too insightful to limit to simply being comedy. They're funny, yes, but they're also very truthful and honest - and maybe they're most funny because of that.

Thanks, Eric, Tom, Sheri, Shark, Chris. Seems every three weeks I lapse into ideations. The support helps. It is especially good to be read. It's like deep back scratching. I need to make money this way again. I'm no good otherwise.

Does it get any worse than this? eight am, ten (that number being 10 and all...) cups of brown and this essay looks about as finished as the europe referendum.
The point? oh yeah, anyway...
I write (essays for the bastardo of an english college. Grafitti...)
I read (essays from the bastardo, books from the same. Grafitti...)
Do I become a rare and great-crested reader from the books i must read and dissect or books i float into and out of for pleasure? Is there a happy medium? Will I find it like i might find say keys and sandwiches? Is grafitti wrong?