Remember in my last post when I talked about how Literotica misposted my sequel to Little Miss Communication? And remember the convoluted steps I had to take to get it removed and reposted? Well, I did those and it was reposted… wrong again. As the saying goes, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me (but really, double shame on you). I’m done being fooled. And for the time being, I think I may be done with Literotica.
I said in that article a little while back that none of the sites are perfect. Never has this been more true. Ten years ago, Literotica would have been a shining example of what the web would produce. It was Web 2.0 before the term was conceived of. It featured user-provided content and a means to scale fairly gracefully. Problem was, it never evolved beyond that initial build (adding a few features here and there is not evolving). In many ways, it’s the same site as it was ten years ago. In the web world, men have just discovered fire.
With Facebook and Blogger and WordPress, we understand what dynamically driven content is. We get the concept of a CMS, even if we don’t know what those letter mean. It’s not only accepted, it’s expected. At least by me. The content is OUR content. Give us control or people will start moving elsewhere when something better comes along (and if you’re laughing, remember MySpace or Altavista, AOL or, sadly, Borders).
But it’s not just about the lack of modern technologies that bugs me about this whole fiasco. It’s the lack of respect for the time I put into what I do. I don’t just sit down and hammer out a story in a couple hours. I put a lot of thought into each one I craft. I write and rewrite. I have people read it, give me feedback, and rewrite again. Iterate, iterate, iterate. Sites like Literotica exist because people take time to provide them content. I know it sounds self-important — that maybe I should feel gratitude that such a place exists at all — but we live in a content driven world now, and it’s the content providers who get to make the demands.
Respect. That’s all I’m asking.