The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Allow Me To Pout and Prickle...

It's essentially my own doing, I'll say that right off.

I decided to take a break from my journal, as well as adding any new poetry and when my upgrade ran out on May 31rst, I incorrectly assumed that my account would simply be locked, and that when I reopened it, all of my words would come spilling back out to greet me. Though my portfolio appeared to be inactive, I still checked in daily to read through my favourite journals and keep up to date on the newly submitted work of my favoured writers. I know all about the relationship dramas, the need to spill blood and the hot, sticky travels of the people I care most about, in the way that strangers without faces can care for one another. I banked the more notable events of my summer in my head, knowing that when I returned to my journal, I would have loads of tales to stuff it with. Then, a couple days ago, one day after my thirty-seventh birthday, I elected to return and open my cobwebbed portfolio back up. I made the payment, smiled and breathed deeply and waited for the clean air to move the dust about. I hit refresh a few times, logged back out and then in again, only to discover that everything was...gone.

I didn't believe it at first, couldn't fathom why such a thing would occur, until I went to the technical support forum and had my fears confirmed: after three and a half years of faithful participation at a site I had come to regard as an extention of my myself, I was considered null and void.

I emailed the administrator and pleaded for a solution, only to be told there wasn't one. He was kind enough to point out my negligence in not updating for three months (it wasn't quite three months, but anyway), and also that he was sorry that I had not read the policy in the email which had been sent to me months ago, but to his credit, he did try to find my work and restore it even though he knew right away that it was impossible. He was contrite, though I'm sure he also felt a little indignant that someone would be so incensed over losing their work when it was her fault to begin with, and he offered to refund my money if I wanted to leave the site.

I was more than a little tempted.

After seething for a day, and looking around the internet for a suitable replacement, it dawned on me that the whole mess was indeed my own doing. I hadn't read the statement about dissolving work in portfolios without payment. Apparently I'm one of the few who didn't think to read all the way to the bottom of the reminder email which states that locked/hidden items not supported by current membership would be permanently purged. The information is there, but I didn't read it, so clearly I'm the one at fault and can only look to myself for blame.

Though I am admittedly frustrated with myself over this, I still feel that there should have been some kind of a warning email, perhaps something in a large, red font which would have alerted me to the seriousness of the situation. Instead, there was only silence, without so much as a whisper or rustle of paper when all of my work was destroyed, and the whole time I was carrying on as though I could come back, prodigal wannabe writer, and pick up where I left off. Surely it must seem unreasonable that someone who spends so much time on this site would simply abandon their portfolios, particularly their journals, without the intention of ever returning.

The official reason I was given for the purge of my work was that without payment, the site cannot 'afford' to host materials any longer. Oh really? What about the scores of absent black case writers who have not been on the site in years who still have their work on display (I personally know two and neither have been on the site in more than two years)? Why not erase their accounts to free up room for the writers who have actually paid for the privilege of writing here? My fundamental argument was that I paid to write on this site, and that the work I accomplished in that period was paid for, which should have ensured its safekeeping. To me, this seems reasonable. The response to this was that the work is not what we pay for, but the space. *sigh*...Come on. Am I really to believe that my tiny portfolio was taking up so much space that it couldn't have been saved for say...ninety days? That excuse/policy has holes all over it. Ultimately it boils down to the discretion of those controlling the site, and though I was told it is up to the host provider, it's really not. Don't send me the useless sticky pads with the logo on it, or the cards to congratulate me on my years of loyalty to the site. Though it's a nice touch, an email will suffice, thanks. Use the money to preserve the work of people who value creativity, by doling out a healthy portion of gift points on their Writing.com birthdays. The economy is tough all over, and while I appreciate the gesture of the sticky pad in the mail, I think I'd rather have a month or two of membership on the site.

That said, yes, it was ultimately up to me to make sure I paid on time. I'll own that. I just think that it's really poor show to liquidate the work of site members after they've supported the site with their time and money. What if there had been an accident? Something completely unavoidable? According to the administrator, even if there had been some kind of horrible, disfiguring accident which could have resulted in a full body cast, the work still would have swirled down the toilet.

My journal(s), in particular, meant the most to me. While eighty per cent of it was surely tripe, there was another twenty per cent which was the only record I had of my daughter's earliest years. Since I took to venting on a keyboard, my paper journal has been abandoned in a drawer and none of my wee one's happenings existed anywhere but in my mind and on the Writing.com site. If you're a parent, you will understand how important that is, and how devastating it is to lose it. While my head is still filled with quick flickering images of her, or tiny snippets of laughter, the words or the moments are done. While I can replace a poem, I cannot replace a memory and like most writers out there, I rely heavily on sentiment and nostalgia.

What I think is this: 1)The site needs to send out one final email with big, bold letters stating the imminent eradication of one's portfolio so that they get one last opportunity to save their work. No small print. Too many shady companies rely on small print to outsmart their faithful patrons. Make your point and make it large! 2)A three month grace period, rather than two weeks. We're talking about writing space here, not real estate, so please don't try to tell me you'll go bust if you don't shut the portfolio down in the gestation period of fruitfly. 3)Clean up the site by clearing out all the cases who have not been active for six months or more (with the exception of those who request permission for extended periods of absence). Reasonable?

So, I'm heavy-hearted because I have to let the last three years go, and while some of it will not be missed, I will definitely miss all the records of the happier moments with my love M., and my wee one, Kitty Kat. I won't miss the purging of R., the former boyfriend who continues to hold on inside, despite my best efforts to cast him out. I won't miss the former job memories, or the spats or disappointments of friends who will not be part of this journal. I don't like to admit that I will miss my ratings on my poetry, because we're not supposed to be proud of what others think, right? That said, I will, because people don't review as much as they should, and some of the work which I think deserves to be read and valued might languish naked in a portfolio which has no ribbon or reward. I hate that I need validation, but I do, and there you have it.

I'm trying to be positive about this, though. With a blank slate there is possibility, and this journal, so far, has nothing particularly regrettable in it. My other journals were dark at times, a restrained kind of dark because I often felt more unhinged than I ever let on, and it's nice thing to be able to look ahead, rather than back. One of the reasons I took my 'sabbatical' was because I was really tired of writing the same thing, of being the same person, and just wanted a release before coming back. I had no idea I'd be starting from scratch, but it's not always a bad thing to go back to the beginning, and this time I hope to do it better.

This concludes the first entry.

I need a new signature, it would seem.

Insert sig here ---->

** Image ID #1057934 Unavailable **