Blogging Without Comments?
I notice that Mistress Matisse has made an interesting blogging choice — she’s turned off her blog comments, and she explains why:
So, you may have noticed that the comment box has gone away. I made a vague remark a few days ago suggesting it was a technical issue, but in fact, I took the comments box off myself, because I was the one having issues.
…
I have become aware, lately, that my writing here has gotten really…careful. Almost defensive. When I considered it, I realized that it was due to my thinking too much about what people were going to post in the comments. When I first started blogging, I loved getting comments. At some point, that changed. Naturally it’s always been nice to have people say how much they liked this or that. I’m human, I like praise. But getting strokes can’t be the entire goal of the blog. Monk told me how Pete Townsend once remarked that people always talk about how musicians influence their listeners, but that the reverse was also true: fan feedback influences musicians. That’s true for me as well, and I feel it’s been detrimental to my writing here. When I took the comments off ten days ago, it was an experiment to see how I felt. And what I felt was an immediate sense of being freed from a constraint. Thus, I will not be having comments here anymore.
Even as I write this, I’m feeling the urge to bring up and pro-actively address all the various protests and arguments that I think you, the reader, might make. Defensive. But as with everything in my life — and in yours too — my choice to remove comments is influenced by a number of factors, both large and small. Some of my reasons I have shared with you here, but there are others I’m not going into, either because they are too complex or too personal. Without the comments box hanging over my head, I feel freer to write what I want, without lengthy justification.
I suppose it’s possible the silence will get to me after a while and I’ll put them back up, but not any time in the foreseeable future. You can, of course, email me with your comments, and I will probably post and publicly respond to selected ones.
I’ve got a fairly complex reaction to that. Before any of you start busting my balls the way some of you did over my post about deleting blog archives (and “here I go again!” with the defensive writing Matisse is talking about) I’m not going to question her decision, merely share my reaction to it and speculate about whether the very real benefits will outweigh what I see as a significant downside.
Like Matisse, I love getting comments. Unlike her, that hasn’t changed for me. But the proactive, defensive urge is very strong. My readers and fans (and I treasure you all) are a joy to hear from, but on the internet, there’s always a thundering brigade of trollish folk whose entire joy in life seems (judging by their behavior) to derive from attempts to “score” by going out on the internet and posting criticisms, rude comments, sarcastic put-downs, contradictions, and abrasively dismissive arguments. For these minor predators, the game of blog commenting seems to consist entirely of finding ways to piss in other people’s Cheerios.
It’s bad enough for me, who blogs from behind a shield of anonymity and (this being the bigger deal) puts very little of my actual life into the blog. These bloggers who, like Matisse, share considerable detail about their business, personal, social, and erotic lives, have a great deal more skin in the game. And it’s all food for the thundering brigade. Frankly I am often astonished at how open other sex bloggers leave themselves, and I do wonder where they find the mental energy to resist or endure the horde of nibbling predators.
After minimizing my exposure, I manage the thundering brigade by giving myself free and guiltless license to moderate with extreme ruthlessness. I demand civility, and not just in an icy may-it-please-the-court technical sense; comments that don’t come across as open-handedly friendly (no matter how critical they may or may not be) tend not to survive the moderation process. It’s not that the thundering brigade doesn’t visit here, it’s just that I don’t provide them with shelter, beer, or skittles.
That said, I still struggle with the self-censoring defensive urge Matisse is talking about. When I notice it, I try to resist it. Sometimes, I forbid myself to “bring up and pro-actively address” various inevitable criticisms, telling myself that (a) the rude versions won’t make it through moderation, and (b) if one of my valued, friendly commenters raises the issue, I can address it reactively. But, too often, I simply reword the blog post to avoid the objection. Sometimes this makes for better writing, but other times, it just makes things more bland. Without comments, I’m sure I’d be far more provocative.
That said, comments fill a social connectivity gap that email simply cannot replace. Sending an email automatically assigns a private communicative weight to whatever you say in it. You don’t do it if what you’re saying is below a certain level of triviality. But that same trivial remark may be perfect in a blog comment, because when you comment on a blog, it’s like saying something to a small and friendly audience, such as a cluster of friends at a cocktail party. You don’t say it to communicate, you say it to entertain and interact with the group. A private email cannot hope to replace that function.
By turning off blog comments, it seems to me that Matisse has blocked off an important avenue of social connectivity with her blog audience. In her context — which includes a meatspace life so rich in social connectivity that she clearly has to juggle furiously to maintain it all) — this may well be a perfectly sensible thing to do. But I know I would feel a terrible pang if I had to do that here at ErosBlog. If I had to do it, it would feel like saying “The party in my living room is over. From now on, when I want to talk to you, I’ll come out on the front porch and read from a prepared statement.”
I actually do think my “prepared statements” (my blog posts) would be a little bit better — more provocative, less defensive, fewer disclaimers and weaselly explanatory phrases. But, though my writing might be better, my blog would be worse, if that distinction makes any sense.
And another good thing about comments. They let me ask questions like this: What do you think?
Similar Sex Blogging:
Shorter URL for sharing: https://www.erosblog.com/?p=2121
I’ve got to say right off that I am not a blogger. I enjoy reading blogs, but at this time don’t have the need to blog about my daily life. However, this does not mean I don’t have an opinion. I can certainly understand Mistress Matisse’s reason for removing the commenting from her blog. Like Bacchus says, she really does have more skin in the game. Nobody likes to hear negative comments about themselves or how they live and get enjoyment out of their life. I respect Mistress Matisse just for the fact she does put a lot of her life up for scrutiny by anybody that happens to find her blog. I can also see how removing these comments may seem like the cutting of some bonds to the very same public. However, the amount of time and energy it must take to moderate the comments as you (Bacchus) do…must sometimes be very trying on the nerves. Tough to sit back and look objectively at comments directly right at your life. I’ll just be happy to read and garner what bits of enlightenment I can from Mistress Matisse’s blog, and enjoy the opportunity to read and respond to all the interesting things that come up on ErosBlog. Thanks to all of you for keeping us supplied with interesting stuff! Happy New Year.
I also find it amazing that people are brave enough to put pieces of their true life out there and weather the onslaught that is sure to arrive from the blogging world.
My only suggestion is to remember that this is your blog,and those that come here to read,should they disagree,have every right to click the red X at the top right of their screen.The energy expended on posting poison filled diatribes could be spent starting one’s own blog,and posting one’s own thoughts at the risk of public scrutiny.
Discussion is what,idealistically at least,we are here for.Where discussion begins and poison starts is strictly up to the owner of the blog
Seems to me that the lazy person’s way out of working hard at something to be proud of is to troll their way through the internet.
I think I can relate to both sides of the issue, at least in part.
I work two jobs. One I get to be open with and dialog to people (retail). Folks swap stories, tell jokes, and generally get along. Unfortunately, it also meas catering to customers whose views I may not agree with. The other I have to stay closed off and distant if I want to do my job without undue guilt or prejudice on my end (security).
In the first job everyone involved tends to get along. It’s not always great, but there’s a good feeling to the feedback. Unfortunately, it might mean selling out on principles I once thought unbreakable to get a sale. In the other… well, let’s just say that people’s fear of legal consequences have been a great shield thus far. But at the same time, I can do what I have to without regretting it.
In the end neither is a perfect answer. Both have their problems that effect me emotionally. It’s gotten to the point that as long as I can can look back at the day and not question myself it, I’m happy.
I guess this is about where Matisse feels she needs to be, what she needs to accomplish.
Before I lost my blogging anonymity last year, my comment box was open. I really enjoyed the debate and arguments and opinions that developed on the blog between readers (and also myself). I did sometimes find that I was veering towards defensiveness, but I was conscious of that and with the protection of anonymity, felt safe in saying exactly what I felt like – not caring whether people supported my opinions or not.
That all changed though and the comments changed too. Whilst I have always received hateful remarks, when I was anonymous I didn’t care what people said, but when everyone knew who I was, the nasty stuff got to me. And there was only so much “cunt”, “whore” and “slut” that I was prepared to put up with before I ended up moderating all comments.
As soon as I did this, the dynamic of the blog changed quite radically. Where it was once a free-for-all, it then became a staggered debate, with people having to wait for me to read and approve their comments. Thus, the interactivity of it – both between myself and the readers and between themselves – is no longer enjoyable, and I do miss that quite a bit.
Losing anonymity and then receiving negative, hateful or attacking comments is difficult. On the one hand you don’t want to stifle debate; on the other it can get to you when people know who you are and shout abuse at you on a daily basis or feel compelled to tell you how you should be living your life. Personally I have found this very trying and even though I know I shouldn’t let it get to me (let’s face it, the trolls are everywhere), I have regularly considered removing my comment box because, like Mistress Matisse, I feel my writing suffers as a result.
For now, I just continue to moderate the comments, allowing through criticism if it does not personally attack me, but not giving a platform to those who wish to vent their bitterness, envy or spite at me. Why should I? It’s my blog. People seem to forget that when they leave aggressive/nasty comments and often I am tempted to say to them, ‘if you don’t like it, no-one’s forcing you to read.’
Mistress Matisse is a brilliant writer and rather than have her abandon the blog altogether, I’d certainly rather see the comments disappear. However, I hope that she will reconsider (and sooner rather than later) and choose an alternative route. It seems as though recognizing the problem is more than half the battle, and throwing out the baby with the bath water just seems unnecessary. I feel better about the whole affair by pretending it’s just a matter of “Seasonal Affective Disorder”, and that therefore it’s merely a temporary setback. Now that we’ve passed winter solstice, I’m looking forward to the imminent resumption of business as usual, and a tougher Mistress!
I think this is a tricky question. Personally, I can’t imagine turning off the comments on my blog. The comments are half the point… and more than half the fun. I think of my blog as the place where I think out loud, and the conversation/ feedback I get from the comments helps me clarify, refine, and improve my ideas, and even change them when they’re flat-out wrong.
But then, I’ve been lucky. The comments in my blog have, for the most part, stayed very civil. So I’m not sure what I would do if that changed.
What I will say is this: If a blog doesn’t have comments, I’m unlikely to visit and re-visit it on any regular basis. In the same way that commenting is half the point of keeping my own blog, it’s also half the point of reading someone else’s.
Almost one year ago I had a long time reader attack me and my wife in my comments. I never saw it coming. Still to this day I have no clue as to why. I had no problem with the attack on me, it is my blog, but my wife, who only reads my blog, was not fair game. So what to do? I decided to take my blog private. After four months of “blog exile” I couldn’t take it anymore and returned to public life (thankfully without issues). I love comments and without them, not sure I would blog at all, for without comments, what is the difference between a blog and a personal handwritten journal? Email, as stated above, is not the same. A blog is a living thing and comments feed the entity, keep it alive, growing, dynamic, exciting, not to mention, comments are the connection to the community at large, to friendships formed and sustained. If I have to turn comments off, for whatever reason, then I just as soon go back to pen and paper.
After a hard day in the salt mines, I sometimes like to relax by indulging in what I call “bar fighting” — coming in the door and announcing, “I can lick anyone in this place!” What this typically translates into is connecting to a conservative blog and posting something like, “Bill Clinton is the only fiscally responsible President in the last several decades.” That generally gets them boiling off the benches, and a good time is had by all.
At least I hope so. I try very hard not to be hateful or personally critical, and to focus on substantive issues. But I am explicitly looking for people who disagree with me on those issues, so we can have a “vigorous” discussion. Not surprisingly, there are plenty of commentators who are happy to be hateful in return, but part of the fun of bar fighting is figuring out clever and well-informed put-downs. The major challenge is to see how to get through to people who may disagree seriously with my point of view. And a major benefit to me, beyond the relaxation value, is that sometimes I learn something and change my mind.
Of course, not everyone enjoys argumentation as much as I do. One community I visited had a strong policy of “Don’t feed the trolls”, which somehow they applied to me in spite of my consistent courtesy. So I went away.
Obviously, some people may have motives similar to mine, of enjoying bar fighting, but less commitment to courtesy. My suggestion is that the “Don’t feed the trolls” policy is quite effective. And that you should feel free (as you obviously do) to delete any comments that you think detract from your blog. But I agree that the interaction of comments is important to the feel of a blog.
Beard, you do understand that, courteous or not, what you call “bar fighting” is troll behavior, yes?
Bacchus, I want to take the opportunity to thank you for keeping the comments open. Of the few times that I have posted comments here, you usually disagreed with what I had to say. However, instead of getting huffy and hitting the delete button, you’ve allowed the comments to be published and added your own thought out rebuttal. I appreciate this immensely even if we never see eye-to-eye. I’m tired of bloggers simply shutting down their comments and essentially giving up instead of addressing criticism in a reasonable manner.
When I took writing courses in college, every student’s work was put up for class discussion during the semester. The students and professor were ruthless while nitpicking every little detail and fault with your writing. It was frustrating, however, I was amazed at how much the criticism helped me learn about my own writing and how to improve it. This is why I become extremely disappointed when a blogger, Matisse included, decides to shut off their comments. It baffles how they expect their writing and perspective to evolve without someone there to say, “Hey, wait a minute…perhaps you should reconsider what you said…” I equate blogging without comments to putting your hands over your ears and shouting “la la la la I’m right and you’re wrong.” Such an action makes the blogger look insecure and pretentious.
It’s for the above reasons that I’ve removed Matisse’s blog from my bookmarks. I enjoy reading her stories, but it’s difficult to take any writer seriously when they are unwilling to receive criticism.
Thanks for the kind words, Lurking, but I fear this is yet another case where we disagree.
I really cannot imagine a scenario in which it would strike me as appropriate to leave criticism in another blogger’s comments, unless it was expressly invited.
If you must do it, that’s what your own blog is for.
Whether or no to allow comments is ENTIRELY at the discretion of the blog owner. Having said that, reading blogs where they do not allow comments seems less “bloggy” and more lecturing; there’s a missing element of communication. It isn’t as much fun. I don’t read Matisse all that often – her kink isn’t mine – so this particular author losing the comments probably won’t affect me all that much.
But it HAS to be a further insulating feature in the blog.
Some of the biggest blogs on the net do not allow comments; instapundit, for example. But in this case, Glenn reads most of his mail and occasionally replies – or posts the replies in the main blog.
Perhaps the trick is to keep comments on, but write as if they are off. Then again, having readers in mind and feeling that they have the right of reply may not be such a bad thing.
It can hurt sometimes. When I make a mistake and have someone point it out in the comments and I have to wiggle around trying to justify what I said… ouch. Then again as the whole point of my blog is about how I am not some kind of infallible goddess ferchrisake, that can work just fine.
I hope I’d feel the same if I wasn’t anon. Not sure.
Being a blogless peeping tom who likes to pop up occasionally to deliver his grain of salt, I am in no position to comment on Miss Matisse’s decision in terms of the ethics or esthetics of blogdom. However, if she does expose too much “skin,” then I can understand why she might want to hole up for a while to protect herself from the trash or attacks of what you call “trolls” (I’d just call them pitiful jerks). Since e-mail addresses have to be included with the comment, couldn’t you publish the objectionable comments in a separate muck-folder along with their addresses and let ’em eat spam? It’s nice reading a real discussion instead of one-liners.
It would be an interesting experiment… I’d like to know if her traffic goes down because of it…
Bacchus [#9], well, yes and no. Part of why I wrote this is to illustrate the important difference between courteous and non-courteous behavior. Whether you call courteous argumentation “troll behavior” depends on community standards. I also wanted to describe some of the motivations that might lie behind troll behavior, beyond simple beastliness.
In a political blog, the community standards are a good deal more argumentative. In a sex-positive blog like this one, community standards are much more focused on supporting people in positive explorations of sexual behaviors, some of which may be frowned upon by the society at large. When “bar fighting” for a liberal position in a conservative blog, one can reasonably see one self as David versus Goliath. Fomenting an argument here would require taking the Goliath role, which is far less satisfying.
So, I don’t consider taking contrarian positions as necessarily troll behavior. But it does require some sensitivity to community standards, and perhaps the occasional apology for misreading things.
Comments are a weird thing. On one hand, they’re validating. It’s like, “Hey, people are actually READING this! And this is exactly what they feel about it!” On the other hand, you’re opening yourself up to criticism.
I once had a friend antagognize me through a tag board on my own blog, after we’d had a seismic fight. I’ve had friends nitpick about my grammar, and I’ve had strangers judge me. I once I had a regular blog and a sex blog, that was anonymous. Someone figured it out and hinted at it in my comments– it more than freaked me out– enough to delete my sex blog entirely.
I respect Matisse’s decision. While I always am eager to rad about the discussion of your posts in the comments, Bacchus, I’m sure they must be daunting for you to manage sometimes.
Cheers to you, for this labor of love.
This is not a new concept… a number of other people have chosen the non-comment route as well. For example: http://www.joel....html
I guess it depends somewhat on your audience. If your audience is highly technical, then most of them likely have blogs as well, and the trackback mechanism can create a web of replies through well-thought-out blog posts.
There have been times I have put a lot of energy into a blog comment, and it is a sad thing at the end to realize that I was basically sculpting my masterpiece in someone else’s back yard. Not that my writing is that great, but when you put time and effort into a reply, it would be nice if you had control over where it ended up.
So I think encouraging the reply-in-your-own-blog model is really an act of progress, although it will take time before most people move in that direction. Including me, apparently. :-)
Beard, I fear you may be missing the point.
Expressing a dissenting opinion in a blog comment is not trolling.
Going into blogs that you know you disagree with and expressing an opinion that you know will be inflammatory in that context, for the sole purpose of provoking a fight… that is trolling. That is a textbook, dictionary definition of trolling. Especially when you’re doing it with the primary purpose of seeking entertainment. And double-especially when “part of the fun” is creating put-downs.
And it’s extremely irritating to people who are trying to have sincere discussions and debates. In fact, it actively derails sincere discussion and debate.
Beard: by going in to spaces intended for people who disagree with you precisely in order to disagree with them, you are most certainly trolling. You may not ‘flame’ (post gratuitous insults) but you most certainly troll. You’re posting inflammatory comments in order to stir up drama and negativity, and I’m not buying your justifications. Do you not think they feel that they are David fighting Goliath? I’ve yet to meet anyone who didn’t.
I don’t moderate any political communities but I do have a few very active sex, relationship and health themed ones. Sometimes people do come in with the express purpose of saying things that they know the entire community are going to want to bite their nose off for[1] and I ban them whether they resort to outright namecalling or not. They’re not there to help, be helped, or contribute anything of value. They’re there to entertain themselves, and I’ve no wish to give them a platform for that when it’s to the detriment of my community and the atmosphere I like to foster.
Lurking: I don’t understand your reasoning.
For a start, what makes you say that she’s blogging in order to evolve her writing and her perspective? She’s not doing a writing course here. There are plenty of other reasons for blogging. Fun, for example.
In any case, she hasn’t gone out of contact. Her email is right there if you have any burning criticisms you think she really needs to hear. Why does disabling one form of communication (blog comments) suddenly make you unable to take what she has to say seriously? Do you think people who write in the print media, or people who write newspaper and magazine articles, are going ‘lalala’, because they don’t have an online system for you to easily register your response? I’m genuinely curious.
I think at root I’m just confused and a bit insulted by your attitude that blogs are there in order that you can critique them, rather than for the author/s to do what they want with their little corner of the internets. Her blog is her blog, to write what she wants to on it. If she feels that worrying about what people will say in the comments is inhibiting that, making it less honest and interesting and fun, isn’t disabling them the obvious choice?
I think you may be unaware of just how much of a time drain just doing the routine housekeeping for comments of a high traffic blog can be. It wears you down and can sap time and enthusiasm that would be spent on actually blogging.
Disabling comments certainly changes the ‘flavour’ of a blog, and I can see why you might be upset if you were a regular contributor. But it’s such a complex matter and a personal choise, I don’t really get why it would cause you to lose respect for her as a writer.
[1] ‘Reusable menstrual products are icky’, ‘I think you should lie to your boyfriend about this’, ‘But all men like receiving blowjobs, are you sure your boyfriend isn’t gay?’, ‘Well, with my ex we used the withdrawal method and I’m not pregnant’ …the list goes on rather.
A lot of negative comments can be really discouraging, so I can see why some blogger chose to disable commenting; and it’s not right for a sex blogger to feel censored by their readership concerns.
But I still feel that comments are an important part of the dialog; it allows readers to bring up ideas that you might not have thought of, help you see things from another point of view, discuss ideas, etc.
I feel very lucky that my site seems to have escaped the notice of the many trolls and flamers that prowl the internets (of course those that do manage to find their way to me find their comments hastily deleted – my moderation style is very similar to yours).