I read or hear that a lot of people get addicted to Flickr, the site and it’s easy to see why. I way to spent time stalling or procrastinating, which for writers is, as one writer said, a time honored tradition. We will do anything to avoid actually writing our books, including buying more books (that’s research), reading magazines (more research), watching obscure French films and video (you guessed it, research), internet work, photography archives, lunching with complete strangers who have the most minimal of connection with our topic ~ whatever, but the point is we find a way to avoid actually getting to the meat of the matter because that is what we do.
Oh yes, eventually we write our books and if we are lucky and we are good enough and our agent is good and well-known and the stars and the portents all fall into place, well then, you just might get published and thank god, it will all have been worth it. The things authors have done in the name of publishing: one young author, well-known whose name I will not say here, stayed up for weeks at a time crushing up her Ritalin into tiny doses and putting it up her nose not only for the "ritual" of it she said, but because it helped her focus. I can understand this. Ritalin does help you focus, or it does if you need it, but if you do not need it, it can act like cocaine and just make you do stupid stuff.
Sort of like Flickr, which as much as I like the site and what is possible through it… meeting good people, making real connections (not the internet web cam kind of connection and yes, you do know what I’m talking about) but real stuff ~ freelance models finding excellent and professional photographers who are legit and so on or photographers and artists looking to showcase truly talented work or even, legitimately, people like me who just like to document everything so much in both writing and film that I am a sort of documentarian. Perhaps because I come from a family of people who were not. Who threw everything away and never cared much for our history and God, how I envy my husband’s family who save everything and keep even his first communion card and graduation photos. Mine were all trashed long ago, sad to say. Even the tapes of me as a little girl met their end when, in a rage, my grandfather tore them to shreds with his bare hands.