I've long since accepted the fact that, if I'm remembered at all, it won't be as a writer. I don't think I've ever written anything truly memorable or meaningful, which bothers me intensely, but such is life. If only more writers didn't have good sales and/or critical acclaim to swell their egos, the literary world would be a far richer place, and a lot more people would still read books instead of opting for half-assed television shows and soulless music.

I do think, however, that I am a decent conversationalist. Not so much in terms of actual conversation, wherein my voice cracks and my words are at the mercy of nervousness, alcohol, or any other number of factors, but online conversation. When I can write to someone in a conversational style, instant messages being the format I have in mind, I tend to shine brightly. Fairly quick wit, good typing skills, and a few seconds in which to consider what I'm saying add up to some damned fine lines on my part. It's not unusual for me to wistfully look back upon some of my IM conversations and wish that I could write books with as much flair as said conversations exhibit.

Here's the thing, though. We may live in an era where online communication is no longer strange to your common man, but it's nevertheless not so popular that one can gain a solid reputation as an online raconteur. I'm not seeking any kind of following as an online speaker, but I have to acknowledge the divide between genuine, face-to-face wit and wit delivered from one end of a modem connection. I am fortunate enough to know folks whose immediate ability to deliver scathing lines far outstrips mine, and the mere fact that I have such friendships diminishes my own verbal kung fu. This doesn't bother me in the slightest, as even my misanthropic self applauds legitimate, unmediated human contact.

All of the above comments constitute yet another poorly-verbalized discourse on issues of "real" vs. "virtual" socialization. To use a common phrase of mine when dealing with folks who still raise an eyebrow when phrases such as "I met them on" and "the Internet" are used in the same sentence: this isn't 1997 anymore. The Internet isn't merely a conglomerate of cretins, fanboys, pervs, nerds, and the like.

Instead, the Internet of today is essentially a giant mouth-breathing organism, which is far more repugnant than the assemblage of quirky individuals that it used to be. It may be a little less hazardous to hang out with strangers you met online, but it's a lot more likely to be boring, too.

To wrap up: I have grave doubts about my writing career, I like being witty online, and while talking online to folks is perfectly acceptable, it won't earn me, or anyone, a meaningful epitaph.