we be #blogarch December: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
Welcome to round two of the #blogarch adventure, orchestrated by Dougsarchaeology. This month, the question posed to those of us who still do this blogging thing is more reflective: what's been good about blogging? Bad? And what's been downright ugly?
Well geez.
The Good
Friends! Contacts, networks, people to talk to. But I think more importantly, blogging offers a longform elaboration of the casual conversations and offhand interests that the 140 character world doesn't really give you a chance to get into. For instance, I am pretty good at working up a #twitterstorm rage. I've had lots of social media chats with friends and strangers about things that seriously, epically get my metaphorical goat (looking at you, #aquaticape! also, druid in-fighting). But here's the thing about an insta-rage: you sound like a total jerk. Seriously. That rage needs context. And maybe pictures of the Judean People's Front (splitters!).
The Bad
Oh hai impossible deadlines and epic time-suckage! Apart from this, personal, blog, I also play 1/4 of the instruments in the feminist archaeology tribute act TrowelBlazers.com . Aside from being totally rewarding and a heck of a lot of fun, a regular blogging time commitment is pretty hard to juggle with my postdoc (teeth!), my fieldwork (teeth! but in Turkey), and my personal health and hygeine.
Honestly, the most difficult part of keeping up a blog has been the fact that I am strongly advised not to divulge any details of my current research by actual Acts of Parliament (shout out to the Human Tissue Act!). In addition to legal restrictions on what I can and can't discuss, there are organisational attitudes to navigate; i.e. nothing I say here can reflect too much on my employment over at the Museum That Dare Not Speak Its Name Without Being Cleared By the Press Office. So between various pressures to keep mum and the general sense by people who sign off on my paychecks that blogging doesn't count for impact metrics with our funder, there are a huge number of disincentives to keep blogging.
The Ugly
I have never had an experience publishing my blog that I would describe as 'ugly' per se. Unintentionally, out-of-control, hilarious? Yes. Very much. I got so peeved with theories of an 'aquatic' period of human evolution (after we walked out of the sea that first time) that I went all Rudyard Kipling on the idea that it wasn't the sea -- it was SPACE! This was the sarcasm that launched a thousand tweets, and they were unapologetically funny. However, the relentless mockery in short form (tweets, my take on the subject for Radio 4) comes off as more snide than I ever intended the original post to be.
In the end though, the same things that were 'good' about blogging -- engaging with people who are neither me, nor my mother -- are the same things that were 'ugly'. The 'bad' is just part and parcel of the whole blogging experience - it takes time, which, for most archaeologists I would reckon, is in short supply.
Well geez.
The Good
Friends! Contacts, networks, people to talk to. But I think more importantly, blogging offers a longform elaboration of the casual conversations and offhand interests that the 140 character world doesn't really give you a chance to get into. For instance, I am pretty good at working up a #twitterstorm rage. I've had lots of social media chats with friends and strangers about things that seriously, epically get my metaphorical goat (looking at you, #aquaticape! also, druid in-fighting). But here's the thing about an insta-rage: you sound like a total jerk. Seriously. That rage needs context. And maybe pictures of the Judean People's Front (splitters!). |
| literally, any excuse to use this photo |
Oh hai impossible deadlines and epic time-suckage! Apart from this, personal, blog, I also play 1/4 of the instruments in the feminist archaeology tribute act TrowelBlazers.com . Aside from being totally rewarding and a heck of a lot of fun, a regular blogging time commitment is pretty hard to juggle with my postdoc (teeth!), my fieldwork (teeth! but in Turkey), and my personal health and hygeine.
Honestly, the most difficult part of keeping up a blog has been the fact that I am strongly advised not to divulge any details of my current research by actual Acts of Parliament (shout out to the Human Tissue Act!). In addition to legal restrictions on what I can and can't discuss, there are organisational attitudes to navigate; i.e. nothing I say here can reflect too much on my employment over at the Museum That Dare Not Speak Its Name Without Being Cleared By the Press Office. So between various pressures to keep mum and the general sense by people who sign off on my paychecks that blogging doesn't count for impact metrics with our funder, there are a huge number of disincentives to keep blogging.The Ugly
I have never had an experience publishing my blog that I would describe as 'ugly' per se. Unintentionally, out-of-control, hilarious? Yes. Very much. I got so peeved with theories of an 'aquatic' period of human evolution (after we walked out of the sea that first time) that I went all Rudyard Kipling on the idea that it wasn't the sea -- it was SPACE! This was the sarcasm that launched a thousand tweets, and they were unapologetically funny. However, the relentless mockery in short form (tweets, my take on the subject for Radio 4) comes off as more snide than I ever intended the original post to be.In the end though, the same things that were 'good' about blogging -- engaging with people who are neither me, nor my mother -- are the same things that were 'ugly'. The 'bad' is just part and parcel of the whole blogging experience - it takes time, which, for most archaeologists I would reckon, is in short supply.
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