(Shadows)

December 8th, 2019

By Jakob Konger

read the suite from the beginning

(shadow)

(The two old men hardly reacted to the shadow, except maybe to spend less time considering moves in the game of Sorry! they had been playing, a game which the older of the two had snuck into the country some years back and which, in his novice understanding of the game’s language, he called Sorrow!. They were near the end of their third round of Sorrow! when the shadow fell over the table they played on—a grey stone table set against the wall of what had once been the university. Both knew the shadow signified their death. The younger of the two drew a 7 card from the top of the deck and moved his furthest red pawn around a corner of the board. There was nowhere else he could have moved the piece. The existence of the card at the top of the deck required the choice. Never before had he played a game as good as Sorrow!. He had neither to plan his moves ahead based on their consequences nor worry what his opponent might do to harm him. No, in Sorrow! every card was a gift. Every card moved him closer to where he’d have liked to go. When the shadow quickly fell over the board then, he had no desire to stop the game. He could die either running or playing a game he loved, so why not enjoy the time he had? He wanted nothing more than to win his final game. What an end! To die so happy! As the shadow lowered over the two of them though, the wind from its propellers blew the cards from the top of the table and slid his pawns in all directions on the board. There wasn’t even time for him to hold the board in place. He’d never know who’d won his final Sorrow!.)







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(Shadows)

December 7th, 2019

By Jakob Konger

read the suite from the beginning

(shadow)

(She couldn’t resist searching the sky for the source of the shadow. She looked over her shoulder as she fled from it, searching the cloudless sky for the small black dot she’d heard so much about. It grew all on its own into something oh so much like an oversized black street sweeper, or so she was told, but at the same time like an angry rat. It growled like a broken truck stalling out next to you. It was miles before she could reach the nearest mountain. She had no reason to look forward. It would be better to look behind her, to the sky. This was how she tripped: over a large sheet of metal halfway buried  in the dirt. She sneezed then pulled herself into a squat. After a quick look back to check the distance of the shadow (still far), she examined the metal. It looked to have been the door to a jeep at one time very long ago, but now it had disintegrated almost beyond recognition. It was metal first, and then a door. It was light enough now she could lift it over her body (it was hot) and hide from the shadow underneath it without feeling crushed much by its weight, though pulling it over her body did give her one of the oddest sensations she’d ever felt–like she was shutting the door over a crypt. She was alone in the very center of the planet. She was burying herself in the center of the earth. The half that had been buried in the sand was cool to the touch, but the rest she had to hold a few inches from her skin to avoid burns. The door had a window once (now long gone), and she held the empty space where it had been over her head so she could look back out at the shadow. It was edging closer still, as though she weren’t hidden at all.)







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(Shadows)

December 6th, 2019

by Jakob Konger

(shadow)

(She didn’t know where the shadow came from. Was it a low lying cloud or something else she wouldn’t think of? She kept her eyes on the ground. It was like a bow. Was she in the presence of something more frightening than she could comprehend? If she didn’t look, she didn’t have to know. The shadow was at its blackest in its center. Out near the edge it turned vague brown then dusty yellow–same as the earth around it. When she moved, the shadow followed. It stayed a meter to her left. She was carrying two small buckets over her shoulders. They were round and plastic, and fastened to the sides of a metal curtain rod with cable ties. In the high afternoon sun, their shadows were clearly defined. They looked just like two eyes growing from stalks out of her neck. The fraying ends of the cable ties were their eyelashes. The shadow was moving closer. She was only meters from the river. The shadow crossed over her own. It blotted out her imaginary eyes. Every step, no matter how fast she ran, its outline was more defined. The yellow turned brown. The turned deep and black. She bent over the river and dipped a bucket in the water. This was when she heard the shadow’s sound. It wasn’t a whisper and it wasn’t quite a roar, but something else that combined the power and mystery of both.)

(shadow)

(She couldn’t resist searching the sky for the source of the shadow. She looked over her shoulder as she fled from it, searching the cloudless sky for the small black dot she’d heard so much about. It grew all on its own into something oh so much like an oversized black street sweeper, or so she was told, but at the same time like an angry rat. It growled like a broken truck stalling out next to you. It was miles before she could reach the nearest mountain. She had no reason to look forward. It would be better to look behind her, to the sky. This was how she tripped: over a large sheet of metal halfway buried  in the dirt. She sneezed then pulled herself into a squat. After a quick look back to check the distance of the shadow (still far), she examined the metal. It looked to have been the door to a jeep at one time very long ago, but now it had disintegrated almost beyond recognition. It was metal first, and then a door. It was light enough now she could lift it over her body (it was hot) and hide from the shadow underneath it without feeling crushed much by its weight, though pulling it over her body did give her one of the oddest sensations she’d ever felt–like she was shutting the door over a crypt. She was alone in the very center of the planet. She was burying herself in the center of the earth. The half that had been buried in the sand was cool to the touch, but the rest she had to hold a few inches from her skin to avoid burns. The door had a window once (now long gone), and she held the empty space where it had been over her head so she could look back out at the shadow. It was edging closer still, as though she weren’t hidden at all.)

(shadow)

(The two old men hardly reacted to the shadow, except maybe to spend less time considering moves in the game of Sorry! they had been playing, a game which the older of the two had snuck into the country some years back and which, in his novice understanding of the game’s language, he called Sorrow!. They were near the end of their third round of Sorrow! when the shadow fell over the table they played on—a grey stone table set against the wall of what had once been the university. Both knew the shadow signified their death. The younger of the two drew a 7 card from the top of the deck and moved his furthest red pawn around a corner of the board. There was nowhere else he could have moved the piece. The existence of the card at the top of the deck required the choice. Never before had he played a game as good as Sorrow!. He had neither to plan his moves ahead based on their consequences nor worry what his opponent might do to harm him. No, in Sorrow! every card was a gift. Every card moved him closer to where he’d have liked to go. When the shadow quickly fell over the board then, he had no desire to stop the game. He could die either running or playing a game he loved, so why not enjoy the time he had? He wanted nothing more than to win his final game. What an end! To die so happy! As the shadow lowered over the two of them though, the wind from its propellers blew the cards from the top of the table and slid his pawns in all directions on the board. There wasn’t even time for him to hold the board in place. He’d never know who’d won his final Sorrow!.)






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Countdown to the 2020 FLASH SUITE Contest

December 4th, 2019


Two more days, everyone.
Daily posts of the 2020 FLASH SUITE Contest
begin Friday the 6th– usually around 3pm EST,
but this will vary, on occasion.
Go straight to the contest, here.

In the meanwhile, surf all of our original content
from our retro navigation panel, site left.
<———————-
Remember, any text in burgundy is a link.

However, we will be upgrading our hosting
later today, which means the site will not be operational
for, hopefully, only a few hours.

Two more days, everyone.
Go straight to the contest, here.


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The Art of Sustaining a Still Popular Website in an Age of Social Media

November 17th, 2019

Conclusion: What Does Sustainability Mean not only at Defenestrationism.net

This is the final episode.
To read the essay from the beginning, click here.


What does internet sustainability mean? What is required to sustain an internet site? For one’s site to simply remain existing, above the dark-web underground?

I identify four necessary components to internet sustainability: first, hosting– the server, which can be thought of as the hardware any site perches upon. Then, secondly, retaining the unique URL– the written address appearing in the bar up top your screen. However, both these could be achieved with a free blog account. Third of all, some amount of content, something appearing in the body of the site, either pre-existing or scheduled fresh material. And, fourthly, a site staff to update the systems, perhaps monitor comments, and to post that new material if you have it.

At Defenestrationism.net , we employed an entirely volunteer site staff for six-and-a-half years– including our first two years at a different URL. This included design and development, monitoring and content posting, all submitters, and without adds or donations.

The Summer of 2013 was when we first offered prizes for our two annual fiction contests– $75 for each Grand Prize, and $60, total, for runners-up. In the second round of our contests, in 2014, we began compensating our Judging panel. Then we occasionally would commission work for publication on-site. All this brings in an annual budget under $600. I’ll absorb that to advantage humanity until I turn blue, and at least a few years after that.

If retention of readership is the goal– not marketing or income, not publishing the next best seller, or chasing some moment of briefest fame– sustainability becomes equally the goal. Short of the demise of the entire internet, the four components just mentioned can be achieved with two things: an annual budget ranging from less than $75 to less than $150– though, again, with a blog account this can be free. And– far more importantly– future generations of site staff interested in continuing the project.

But are such attempts at sustainability themselves sustainable on the widest scope imaginable?– 400 years?– 700 years? 2,179? 200,000? Will Defenestrationism.net last as long as Shakespeare has dominated, as long as Dante has inspired, or the Dead Sea Scrolls have survived? As long as Humanity itself so far has? I believe it will.

Physically, there is no reason the internet will not exist long after our Sun has exploded and become a floating ember. We can always make more plastic– though we can never get rid of it.

Technologically, we have all we need to sustain some form of the internet as long as Earth supports life, but only that long. Unless we find some way off her.

In a Marxist sense, as long as there is 3rd stage Capitalism, there will be the internet. If another economic system manifests itself– and regression to Tribalism due to climate depletion does not seem unlikely– we would find out then what happens to the internet.

But I do believe our internet will sustain.

For I believe deeply in what Faulkner said, accepting his Nobel Prize.

“Man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance”

He said that in 1949, at the up-ticking of the Cold War, in the throws of the nuclear arms race. Say what you will about Environmental catastrophe, nothing would destroy the internet as thoroughly as a Plutonium explosion.

Sites with aspirations similar to our’s still remain on the internet: check ronsilliman.blogspot.com . We don’t want your money; our overhead is minimal. We don’t need your shares; we bring in our own traffic. We don’t care about your likes, retweets, or up-votes in any other form or forum; we have– at least I have– plenty of confidence in our quality without your approval. We don’t even want your email addresses; if you enjoy what only we have, you’ll come back without our insistence.

All we want?– to stay right here. Sustainability.

Then you’ll always have a place to come back to.




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Meet the 2020 FLASH SUITE Contest Finalists

November 10th, 2019





We are pleased to introduce the finalists for this Winter’s contest on Defenestrationism.net , along with our trademark portrait of the author’s favorite chair.

In order of first submission:




Jakob Konger is from Tampa, Florida. He currently lives in Brooklyn, NY. He writes short stories about history and reality, and is a graduate of the Michener Fellowship program at the University of Miami, where he was also webmaster and fiction editor for Sinking City Lit Mag, a climate-focused literary journal. He has also received the Fred Shaw Prize in Fiction for 2019.




Martha Patterson is a much-produced and -published author of more than 150 plays as well as short fiction, essays, and poetry.  She has been published by Pioneer Drama Service, Applause Books, the Sheepshead Review, Silver Birch Press, the Afro-Hispanic Review, In Case of Emergency Press, and others.  She has a Master’s from Emerson and a B.A. from Mount Holyoke College.  She lives in Boston, Massachusetts.







Christopher R. Muscato is an adjunct history professor, fiction writer, the High Plains Library District’s 2017 writer in residence, and garden gnome enthusiast. He sees writing as a powerful force in this world, and has resolved to use this power for good. 












Carol Dorf has two chapbooks available, “Some Years Ask,” (Moria Press) and “Theory Headed Dragon,” (Finishing Line Press.) Her poetry appears in “Shofar,” “Bodega,” “E-ratio,” “Great Weather For Media,” “About Place,” “Glint,” “Slipstream,” “The Mom Egg,” “Sin Fronteras,” “Surreal Poetics,” “The Journal of Humanistic Mathematics,” “Scientific American,” and “Maintenant.” She is poetry editor of Talking Writing and teaches math in Berkeley. She is interested in the intersections between poetry, disability, science and parenting.





Evan Guilford-Blake writes prose, plays and poetry. His work has appeared in more than 100 journals (including as the winner of the 2016 Defenestrationism.net Flash Suite contest) and anthologies, winning 27 awards. His scripts have won 46 competitions. Thirty-three are published. His published long-form prose includes the novels Animation and The Bluebird Prince and the award-winning story collection American Blues. His comic mystery novel “Noir(ish)” will be published in 2020 by Black Opal Press.Evan and his wife (and inspiration) Roxanna, a talented jewelry designer and business writer, live in the southeastern US.





Before Don Robishaw stopped working to write he ran educational programs for homeless shelters for thirteen years. That experience, combined with his ‘ten lost years’ after getting out of the military served as motivation for writing, ‘Bad Road Ahead.’ Many of the characters he developed have been homeless, served for periods of time in the military, or are based upon archetypes or sterotypes he’s met while on the road. He like to write poetry, satire, tragedies, and gritty fictional tales — of men and women from various backgrounds — that may have sprouted from a seed, from his past. Don’s also well-traveled, using various ways and means: Sailor, Peace Corps Volunteer, bartender, hitchhiker, world traveler, college professor, and circus roustabout. His work has recently appeared in Drunk MonkeysLiterary Orphans, Crack-the-Spine, Open: Journal of Arts and Letters, Flash Fiction Magazine, O’ Dark Thirty, among other venues. 
Author’s Page: www.facebook.com/donrobe1/





A.L. Diaz graduated cum laude from the University of La Verne with a degree in Creative Writing. She has publications with such literary anthologies as Prism ReviewCultural Weekly, and Fiction Kitchen Berlin. If she’s not working with seniors or toddlers or writing or working on one of her hundreds of projects, you can find her sleeping.









Hildie S. Block is a writer living in Arlington, Virginia with her family, cat, dog and axolotl named Xipe (Zippy!). She’s taught writing at American, GW Univeristies, the Writer’s Center (www.writer.org) and through her own Hildie Block’s Workshops (www.hildieblockworkshop.com). She’s also published over 50 short stories and countless essays — in places like Gargoyle, 0-Dark-30, Cortland Review, Redux, The First Line, Clockwise Cat, San Francisco Review, Literary Mama and anthologies like Enhanced Gravity, Literary Taxidermy, and Queer Sci Fi.  Her book *Not What I Expected* came out in 2007 and you can find a little ebook of an award-winning story by Hildie called “People” as a Kindle Single.









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Finalists for 2020 FLASH SUITE Contest now announced

November 3rd, 2019



Go straight to the contest, here,
where you will Meet the Finalists,
find the publication schedule,
Meet the judges, and more…


What’s New on Defenestrationism.net
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Another love away

October 31st, 2019


Fly, pretty love, fly away.
Don’t worry about me, I’ll be OK.
For my next love is but another love away.

Another love away, another love away,
my new love is now another love away.

I met her in the morning,
before she’d done her hair;
I kissed her in the evening,
when her scenes were over.

Another love away, my love, another
love will while away,
for my old love is now a whole
new love away.



!HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

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The Art of Sustaining a Still Popular Website in an Age of Social Media

October 28th, 2019

Part 4.) Traffic and Capitalism
the penultimate, and most actively tangent-pursuing, section of


Traffic? Viral? These are profoundly negative phenomena outside of internet usage. What about the internet makes popularity this negative?

Could it be lack of capital gains from this type of real estate? Anecdote: Travis Chambers of Chamber.media says that the top 5% of Youtube ads– with millions of views and thousands of shares– make several tens of thousands of dollars. 1% profit?– that’s not very much. That’s insect-sized profit. Microbe-sized profit. Virus-sized.

Defenestrationism.net makes no claims to virality. Millions of views?– that would overload our hosting, slow down the time for every page to load. We don’t want that.

We are not viral. But we do sustain our traffic.

After that popular X-mas day in 2012, we have mostly published weekly. And our peak in daily visits since then was almost 600 hits– occurring during Fan Voting for our inaugural fiction contest, the Summer of 2013– and then a few hits shy of 500– Summer of 2016– most recently 456 visits– September 2nd, 2019. These twice-annual contests are our key to obtaining new visitors at Defenestrationism.net . Offering semi-pro cash prizes to winners and runners-up brings exponentially more submissions to our contests than to our unpaid posts in-between the contests. Though submitters not selected are unlikely to return, the sixteen finalists we do publish annually bring their own networks to the site– who become our targets for retention.

Fan Voting begins this retention process. For two weeks, the poll is open, until the day before winners are announced. Voters do not need to register or sign in– though that would give us their email, for almost all sites the most widely employed strategy for bringing visitors back– and they may vote as many times as they care to, unlimitedly. Almost 600 hits in one day of Fan Voting. However, yet another strategy for boosting traffic is employed. Every vote redirects from the poll to the What’s New publication scroll.

For fresh content appears on that publication scroll everyday of Fan Voting, our most compelling content of the coming season. Retention. No click necessary, you true Lovers of Literature need only scroll to the end of that publication. And there– of course– you will find several links: to our “books and bona-fides” homepage, more original content, and back to the top of “What’s New”.

But what if we start thinking abstractly. How does traffic, itself, start? What makes traffic happen? Let’s start with the phenomenon known as rubber-necking.

Paralleling road traffic to internet traffic, whenever one person spends a great deal of time in one place while everyone else is cruising by, those people cruising by slow down to look. This slows down everybody else, who then stop to look all the more, only to find out what they’ve been slowed down for. In theory– and as this parallelism swiftly breaks apart, in theory alone– it only takes one person to start some substantial traffic. This is clearly myth. Anecdote: I was noticing– I believe in the Summer contest of 2015– some unusual numbers during Fan Voting. My stats page would show 30-odd site hits for certain hours, while only registering one unique IP address in that hour.

Wait, I’ll break this down before explaining its significance– as some of you fantastic Lovers of Literature may not yet be hip to this internet-lingo-jive. Hits, visits, and page views mean number of clicks, which are then tallied by the statistics software hourly, daily, and then by any combination of days. Tallied in the same manner are unique IPs, or unique Internet Protocol addresses. These addresses are individual networks that are accessing the site– so, understand it as separately paid for internet bills. The 4G on your phone has a different IP address than your home internet. One way of thinking about unique IPs is as how many people are visiting the site. This, however, soon becomes very complicated. If a single server, network, or IP address plays host to an entire hotel, there could be 50 people all hitting us from the same address– or a-hundred-and-fifty. And digest this one, if I’m riding on a long-distance train, the IP address updates every certain number of miles, changes to several different networks. That item means a single visiter could register from– just guessing, now– fifteen or thirty IP addresses in a six-hour trip between D.C. and New York City.

Anyrate, ignoring the possibility of an entire hotel surfing through Defenestrationism.net in the same hour, my anecdote means that one person– undoubtably an author, or one of the finalist’s mom– was voting for themself almost thirty times an hour. But if we’re getting 300-600 hits each day of fan voting, was this person actually spending ten hours a day voting more than every two minutes? No. Eye-strain and Tendonitis– not worth it for a cash prize of 75 bucks.

Believing that one person can cause the significant traffic at our level is poor reality checking

But let’s continue this road-to-internet traffic parallel along a more productive path. How about Rush Hour traffic? What causes this type of traffic? From Boston to D.C. , from Mexico City to Bogota, Moscow to Chongquin, and from YouTube to Defenestrationism.net , two elements cause Rush Hour: multitudes moving at the same time, and multitudes moving in the same direction.

When Defenestrationism.net publishes weekly, we always post on a Sunday, and usually around 3 p.m. But within this dependability, the hourly highs of our weekly traffic consistently occur Mondays from 2 p.m. Eastern Standard lasting well into night, and Fridays 10 a.m. Eastern till noon or so. Western Hemisphere workdays. Multitudes moving at the same time.

Now, what can be drawn from this microcosm of Defenestrationism.net when applied to Global Capitalism? Boredom, the chief impetus for surfing the internet– real surfing, not Social Media monitoring, as this is non-stop– among Western Hemisphere workers is highest just after the beginning of the work week, and, more briefly, a short time before it’s end. Now, how can this conclusion be applied for humanity’s advantage? Once the work is underway, there is a substantial pause in motivation, before continuing the work throughout the rest of the week. And as an end to the work nears, this motivation briefly slows, then reinvigorates to finish the work. Doubt not, I profess no aim to increase productivity, better motivate workers, or minimize internet surfing in the workplace. I do own the website these workers are wasting time on. Those aims are the opposite of my ambition.

Entirely the opposite, my aim is to advantage humanity.

Free-time, the other primordial currency of 3rd-stage Capitalism, is invariably wasted– well, with exceptions like you Lovers of Literature cultivating your tastes at Defenestrationism.net — wasted buying things you don’t need, contracting wrinkles on an overly crowded beach, or primping to impress your makeup mirror. Wikipedia.org is the only major internet site that won’t waste time with anything other than opinions. Learning, Arts, Drama– to a lesser degree Sports– Literature beyond the crop of the month, and Music still relevant decades after release, any online form that widens the scope of your temporal and frontal lobes, these are truly not wastes of free-time. But this free-time not wasted rarely equates to monetary gain for its creators. Short of “the Heart is a Lonely Hunter” being selected by the Opera Book Club and “Juno” nominated for Best Picture, worthwhile pursuits for free-time are not overly profitable. People simply prefer to spend their capital reading about Outer Space or socialites in prison– and nothing is wrong with that, nothing. Nothing is wrong with wasting free-time, whether buying things you don’t need, contracting wrinkles, primping, or reading guilty pleasure trash– it’s your time, and it’s free. And as to wasting money– well, it’s only money.

But the other cause of Rush Hour traffic?– multitudes moving in the same direction? An analytic figure and a human-to-human question both prove illuminating: my “Top Referring Domains” statistics, and asking “how did you hear of us?” when we confirm receiving a submission. Between open and close of the reading period for this last Summer’s contest, 278 visits were referred– or linked to us– from sites I know to announce contests and calls for submissions. And, in asking our submitters human-to-human, only occasionally will she, he, or they say “a friend,” or even “internet search.” The vast majority reply, “Duotrope,” “Freedom Through Writing,” “Linda’s Comps and Calls,” or similarly. I attribute daily spikes in traffic during our reading period to announcements from these lists. Multitudes moving the same direction.

Finally, internet gridlock. In utter sincerity, gridlock is what Capitalism wants– and it is a good thing. Capitalism thrives most vibrantly in two environments: developing markets, and large populations. United States and China have the populations, and largely for that reason are the twin powerhouses of global Capitalism; India and Ethiopia are the two of the most rapidly developing– top places where the powerhouses are investing.

Now translate these factors into internet use. When are there large populations developing new ways to access the internet? New gadgets for millions on the same day, or on the same eight days? Twelve-hundred visits on one X-mas day. Nothing spells out Capitalism with an upper-case C like gift-giving Religious Holidays.

Speaking of gifts– and here’s a tangent that’s closer to utterly adjacent– how about the greatest gifts humanity has received from itself since fire: Wikipedia.org .

Sue Gardner, former executive director of the Wikipedia foundation, expressed the organization’s mission in the following way:

“Wikipedia’s job is to bring the sum total of all human knowledge to everyone around the world in their own language.”

Advantage?– humanity.


So, surf through one last time, you Lovers of Literature, for this Autumn’s final publication,
the conclusion to
The Art of Sustaining a Still Popular Website in an Age of Social Media
as we address the undeniable opposite of macro-Capitalism
Sustainability not only at Defenestrationism.net




Start with Part 1. of the Art of Sustaining a Still Popular Website in an Age of Social Media



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The Art of Sustaining a Still Popular Website in an Age of Social Media

October 19th, 2019

Part 3.) Content and Consistency at Defenestrationism.net



How in all virtual reality did our site receive over a thousand-five-hundred visits on a single day, one X-mas eve in 2012? Consistency.

In January of 2012, I had early drafts of seven unpublished chapbooks. For over eleven months, Defenestrationism.net published fresh content every day– one piece a day, every day. This knowing that there will be fresh material every time one visits brings people back. And then back again.

2012 was a time when Social Media had not yet its current dominance over our bandwidths. Defenestrationism.net will never reach those levels again. Though we’re frequently hit hundreds of times in a day– most recently, October 1st, 3rd and 4th of 2019, four times that September– before then, August 19th, July 31st, and four times that June– we will never reach thousands, again. Hundreds of visits a day, though? How is that accomplished? I speculate it’s not because we have so much content, but, far more importantly, because this content appears on separate pages, resulting in another hit with each click. And, because all are easily accessible from every page, highly visible on our retro Navigation Panel, site-left. And because all of these links are self-explanatory. When you Lovers of Literature see “Prisoner Narratives,” you know exactly what you will find. Our FLASH SUITE Contest’s “2014 Finalists” link is the same, as is “ATLAS: vol. 2, Istanbul,” and equally so, “Halloween Nights’ Lyrics” under Multi-Media Content. As for “a Passionate Defense of the Existence of Unicorns“– you guessed rightly for a third time, it passionately defends the existence of unicorns. All of these are highly visible on our retro Navigation Panel, site-left of every page.

Our content has always been, and still remains, solid. Our collaborative publications– Complex Fairy Tales, and the flagship book of the site, the Art of Throwing People Out Windows— are wonderful, adventurous, surprising, and, above all else, oriented towards human differences. Our Disability Narratives are superlative. Our contest finalists are steady, and often outrageously outlandish.

My greatest disapointment for Defenestrationism.net , it will never be a flawless, immaculately-groomed journal of literature. I may not edit it. Ethically, I may only request revision. For the bulk of our freshly published content remains in the fiction contests. They are contests. I may not ethically– or, perhaps, and only perhaps more importantly, may not contractually edit these stories. Unavoidably, advantage would be given.

I pound, I beg, I insist, I remind over and again that all submissions should be reread to edit over and over– and then over again and again. By damn, I give even the selected finalists two weeks for editing before their works are sent to our judging panel!

Anecdote: contest judge Glenn A. Bruce said this– aiming to induce chuckles, he admits– about one story in a past contest:

“Dear god, there are so many things wrong with this I don’t know where to begin—typos, misspellings, grammatical nightmares. Too many topical references! Add to that the ‘intentional’ format, and it all feels like the writer is just trying too damn hard to be clever and ‘unique.'”

I very much liked that story. Thought it quite clever, though not overly unique. I did vote for it as a finalist, after all. But chuckling most certainly occurred reading Glenn’s email, loud chuckling.

What is to be drawn from these details? The internet has never been known for flawless grammar or even passable verbal mechanics. To an unfortunate degree, this ensures more content, rather than better content– Blog syndrome, and we know where that leads: internet graveyard. But content does need to remain engaging enough to bring people back at least twice, while consistency will keep them coming back a dozen times, then, maybe, a hundred times, possibly even retain them for years.

That is all well known. But this much originality I can add to the discourse: a site maximized for multiple hits with every visit will sustain more traffic, as Defenestrationism.net shows.

Numbers will next be addressed on the Art of Sustaining a Still Popular Website, in Part 4.) Traffic and Capitalism. So keep surfing, Lovers of Literature, through Defenestrationism.net .





on to part 4.) Traffic and Capitalism at Defenestrationism.net
or, start with part 1. of The Art of Sustaining a Still Popular Website in an Age of Social Media


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