This Is Why Writers Have Editors

Before he died, Hunter S. Thompson published two massive books of his collected letters, and, love him or hate him, he was able to do so because his correspondence was written in the same fierce style that characterized the work he was actually paid for.

Bohemian Adventures reminds me that Mr. Thompson was singular in more ways than just his, ahem, heroic drug intake.

Wendee Holtcamp is, according to her bio, a "freelance writer, photographer, scientist, educator, bohemian, mover-n-shaker", and her blog reflects everything in the above sentence...except that "writer" bit. Okay, so the fact that she has a blog proves that she is capable of writing words into her computer, but that’s sort of like saying that I’m a mathematician because I was able to count-out exact-change for the coffee-dude this morning.

Her professional writing is, well, professional writing; it’s a shame she doesn’t apply the same standard to her own blog, because if I see that a professional-writer is on the verge of "live-blogging" the spectacle of sharks being hauled from the waters of Australia so that their tracking-devices can be retrieved, I’m not expecting to read this. Or this. Or this.

These are hastily-written emails, Twitter-posts with no character-impediment to adhere to, and I’m completely disappointed. Yes, there are photos, but a huge percentage of them are just groups of people in various social-settings; if I’m going to the moon and the vast majority of pictures I post are of the spaceship bathroom, well, I think I’ve got to wonder why I’m posting anything at all.

In fact, this whole blog reads like she posts when she’s bored, or when she wants to record something for posterity. This is why people hate blogs: this is an online-journal in which the author puts no effort into the quality of her work, and I would go so far as to say that she doesn’t even look these things over before she posts. No, Ms. Holtcamp, you’re not getting paid to blog here (as far as I can tell), but neither do I; nothing I’ve posted reads like this:

"The kids are watching some ridiculous reality TV show about child TV stars. At one point Savie wanted to be famous, wanted to be on TV, and I was like you know what? No. Way. Not gonna happen. I said, you can act in theatre in school, but I have never seen anything good coming out of child stars."

I beg to differ: what about Doogie Howser’s reintroduction to the televised-arts? Or maybe she’s talking, like, physically; all Todd Bridges expels is literal shit, not rainbows and sunshine like most experienced actors.

Oh, but I digress.

Look, you need to OWN this shit, Wendee, and to do so you have to customize more than just your header: you need to stop writing in txt-msg shorthand and put some effort into the posts themselves. Usually, when I read a blog as abhorrently-boring as this one, I assume it’s because the author doesn’t have the capacity to write themselves a note on a post-it pad, much less capture their thoughts and feelings in a captivating way; you, Ms. Holtcamp, have no fucking excuse whatsoever for your blog’s incredible tedium, and, frankly, it’s appalling.

Yes, it’s an unfair comparison, pitting Wendee Holtcamp against Hunter S. Thompson in my above analogy, but my point was less acumen and more outlook: Thompson wrote the way he wrote regardless of whether it was work to be published or a note faxed to his wife; Holtcamp saves her best for the paying-gigs, and, I guess, expects the blogosphere to be amazed that she links to it from her blog.

I might check out the "live-blogging" of her Australian Shark-Capturing Adventure, but there’s no way I need to struggle through another morning of trying to read this blog.



It’s an angry meh.