Google Drive is one of the loves of my online life. I store all my local files in my Google Drive Folder and that Google Drive Folder gets synced between here and the — out there — remote Google Drive. I do all my writing and publishing via Google Drive. I can find pretty much anything I want just by typing in a few keywords in Google Drive and I’m instantly presented with what I need. Life is good that way!
However, I just discovered a permissions problem when it comes to using a local instance of Google Drive and a remote, third-party, website publisher, and I’ll share with you now what I learned, and how I fixed it.
Too many writers write for other people. They write for lovers or lost hope or for an unknown, future, audience they hope will like them — when they should really only be writing for themselves. Every writer is the core of their confounding world. We are the center of our Panopticonic lives.
We know memory is convenient. We prefer to remember the happy and the good while repressing the horrible and the cruel. We also know there is one guarantee in this life you can always count on: There Will Always Be Bad Art. The current “Jumpers Sculptures” pocking the heart of New York City is but the latest example of cruelty in convenience masquerading as inspired artwork.