Netizens are strange people. When you tell them ‘Don’t click yet’, many of them click anyway, out of habit, curiosity or ‘just in case…’
The ad announcing that my new blog, thaifiction.wordpress.com, would be launched thirty-odd hours hence was clicked 384 times ahead of time. Since then, more than one thousand visits have been recorded. Here is the rundown:
– June 17, launching day: 310;
– June 18: 194;
– June 19: 200;
– June 20: 225;
And so far today, as of 8pm, 266!
This should make Khun Noo, the author of ‘Fresh Kills’ singly featured there, happy as it does me. The aggregate figure should also please those who believe that Thai literature isn’t dead yet.
Let’s see how high it can go.
As this ‘เรื่องสั้นไทย | thai to english fiction’ blog features one short story every other Friday, I expect the growing trend to reverse until on July 1st a new story surfaces – Atsiri Thammachoat’s ‘In the night of old age’ which uncontroversially mixes reflections on life and death and dreams with the life and death and nightmare events of May 2010 in Thailand only as a master writer can.
Three addicts so far have found the most convenient solution: they have subscribed to the blog and will receive the next instalments by email. Easy does it.
As the blog came online, another did, meant as a bonus to readers: Thai fiction in English (thaishortstories.wordpress.com), carrying for the time being 15 short stories already published in print.
Same pattern: 48 clicks before launch, 20 on June 17, 17 on June 18, 7 on June 19, 9 on June 20, and 18 so far today.
Meanwhile, my two-year-old personal blog, the one you are reading, has received more than 25 000 visits (41 so far today, which is average).
When time allows, I’ll launch that fourth one, entitled ‘Chansongs’, where I’ll regroup all those translations of songs by Brassens, Brel, Cabrel, Cohen, Ferré and a few unexpected others that I have committed in days and years past, along with the odd poem by the usual culprits I favour.
But time doesn’t allow much, when Gavroche is again knocking at the door, there’s water seeping into the kitchen corner when it rains hard, I’ve made the mistake of accepting to translate a petty craftsman’s choicest short story I have to edit as I translate, the vines need cropping and I need grooming, I’ve been stuck on page 234 of that blockbuster for something like three months, house lizards shit everywhere and the skinks won’t talk to me.
But not to forget the best news of all: Chart Korbjitti, who for so long got himself knotted up in t-shirts to nurse his writer’s block, is writing again!
How do I know that? Last night, he sent me the profound reflections on the difference between ‘ideal’ and ‘ideal’ he penned for a resurgent literary magazine. Read the first issue of Writer and all will be clear.