What are we really doing here?
I’m writing again. There are dishes to do, but the dishwasher was partially full, so I filled it up as much as I could and plan on refilling it once it cycles through. Dinner was delicious — New York strip steak, rosemary roasted carrot sticks, smashed garlic potatoes, and sourdough bread — all from the farmers market.
“It tells a story.”
“What?”
“The bread, it tells a story. Listen to the story on your tongue.”
He’s poetic ironically, but it was true. The meal was rustic, fully sourced from the farmers market, a medley of spring flavors top to bottom.
It’s funny how sometimes I complain about writer’s block, but right now it feels like I’ve uncorked a bottle and something is spilling out. Kind of like our gutters last night. There was another thunderstorm, and our gutters (which haven’t been cleaned since we moved in — because who knew you had to clean your gutters?) are full of fall and winter debris. If you look down from our bedroom window, you can see where the gutter’s sidewall is failing, metal bulging full of water. If you follow your line of sight directly down from there, you’ll see a window to our basement. All this revelation made sense of the water we found — mysteriously — in our basement last night.
Maybe there’s a metaphor in there. Maybe I feel this creative overflow because something else inside me is blocked up, and while it feels nice to let go — maybe this isn’t the right outlet? Or perhaps I’m spending too much time in this one spot. I think it’s that. Makes more sense, too, with the imagery of the bulging gutter (which is true; I’ll try and snap a picture before it gets dark).
As I said earlier, I really don’t know what this is. The project has some shape. I feel like I have an artist’s statement of sorts, but how does the promotion of this blog interfere with its original purpose? The original purpose was to write three pages daily and share those pages here. Little to no editing — raw, unhinged madness.
It seems, though, that in order to get any traction (because of course, as soon as I had one comment I looked into how I could generate engagement — the disease of more rearing its ugly head), I have to use SEO — Search Engine Optimization — which is Stealing Every Ounce of artistry. Sure, I could pop this into ChatGPT and give the internet something to crawl viral with, potentially, but I know for myself — I can spot a ChatGPT article from a mile away. I don’t want that. That is definitely in direct opposition to my mission here.
So where is the line? I’ve never had a blog before. I’ve never managed a website. Are the bloggers who are making money and collecting clout all selling out their ideas to finish first in the SEO race? Where is the line? Or is this a new language I just have to learn — saying things like Tips on Recovering From Alcoholism as a New Mom, How I Got My Pre-Pregnancy Body Back: Rustic Vegan Farmhouse Recipes. Disgusting.
I know this is supposed to be three pages every morning, but I’m the artist and I make the rules, and so — welcome to the first ever (and possibly last ever?) Evening Edition of Three Pages.
Any thoughts other writers, artists, or creators at large may have on the matter are welcome.
three pages 
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