The Shifting Tide

I grew up with the swell of the internet, starting in the 1990s.

I waded in as a young teenager, discovering the basics of website coding. The water was warm and inviting, there was so much learning and exploration involved. Small communities united around fandoms.

Then as time went on, I learned you could surf the web.

This was more than observing the flow of information back and forth... for me, it became a way to tame the ocean. To make a name for myself.

My attempts at surfing involved many false starts, where I got suckered into get rich quick scams and came out spitting water. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I was still optimistic about this great big ocean.

Eventually, I learned to recognize a good wave when it was coming. After years of practice, I was lucky enough to ride the wave of running a successful digital business.

When I was on top of that surfboard, the wave carrying me to the shore, I felt powerful. In control. Like I was responsible for this success.

Of course, the wave would have crested and landed on shore with or without me.

When I arrived on shore, I felt triumphant. But I was tired, because surfing had overtaken much of my time. I had spent decades in the ocean of the internet by now.

When I had my feet solidly planted on the shore, looking back at the ocean... I could see that it had changed.

The water seemed to have developed strong and ominous undercurrents.

Some people were getting pulled under, lost to the power of the waves.

The people I had once learned to surf with were leaving the ocean, sailing off on boats, or choosing to live on land. The small communities were fracturing, becoming less cohesive over time.

As it turned out, the ocean wasn’t an impartial body of water. There are powerful forces shaping it toward their own goals.

So I walked toward the dense forest of trees and left the ocean behind.

It meant less time connecting with the waves and the other surfers... but more time to think. To look at the ocean objectively, and to consider how I wanted to re-engage with it.

With such fond memories of the ocean, I wanted my kids to have a chance to dip their toes in. Still, I didn’t let them jump in fully like I had, because I knew the ocean wasn’t as benevolent as I once believed.

Before the internet, I loved imagined worlds.

For the past year, I’ve been weaving fictional stories as a way to deepen my roots in the forest of imagination. The forest is a much quieter place than the ocean, but it has amazing gifts to share, too.

Maybe some day I’ll feel ready to split my time between the two places.

I wish you well. I am sending love and support your way across this web we are taught to surf.

My publishing rhythm has slowed down significantly. You can expect to hear from me once every few months to a year, as inspiration strikes.