I was in the bookstore just browsing when a couple of thoughts passed through my mind.
The first one was: there’s just so much competition for your eyes.
Thousands of books sitting there, all trying in their own quiet way to get picked. Some have famous names on the cover. Some have those bold, clever designs that practically shout from the table. Others are just spine-out on a shelf, waiting for somebody to happen along and notice them.
And I kept thinking, how does a book even get found?
Most of the books I picked up I’d never heard of. I probably never would’ve heard of them if I hadn’t been in that bookstore, at that particular time, wandering down that particular aisle. Sure, there are the classics. There are the books everybody’s talking about. There are the ones that have already made their way into the wider conversation.
But most of them are just there.
Which made me think about my own stuff. My blog. My website. The things I write and put out into the world.
How do you make yourself known among all these other voices?
Then the second thought came in.
A book is such a static thing.
I don’t mean that in a bad way. I love books. I love holding them, flipping through them, seeing how someone has gathered all their thinking into one object. But standing there, picking up book after book, they started to feel strangely still to me. Finished. Closed. Like little sealed rooms.
And that made me want the web again.
The website. The blog. The living archive.
A blog doesn’t have to be finished in the same way a book does. It can keep moving. You can write something today, link it to something from three years ago, come back later and add another thread. A post can become a fragment. A fragment can grow into an essay. An essay can point back to the thing that started it all.
It’s not a book on a shelf. It’s more like a path through the woods. You make it by walking it.
But then, of course, the same problem comes back.
There are millions of websites. Millions of blogs. Millions of people making things, writing things, posting things, trying to be seen. The web might be alive, but it’s also crowded. A book can disappear on a shelf. A blog can disappear in the feed.
So maybe making the thing is only half of it.
You’ve got to make the stuff. You’ve got to follow the thread, keep showing up, keep doing the work. But you’ve also got to wave now and then. You’ve got to let people know you’re there.
You’ve got to stand at the edge of the forest and say, I’m over here. I’ve made a small fire. Come sit for a while if you want.
Because otherwise, how would anyone know you’re around?