Well, here it is—a milestone. My tenth post, appropriately landing on the first day of the month. I’m mostly satisfied with the way the website looks now, which means I can shift my focus more toward creating original content.

Unfortunately, I am not one of those people who can greet the dawn with a song and a spring in their step. When I’m up at six in the morning, it feels less like rising with the sun and more like climbing out of the grave with one foot still in it. My energy doesn’t really lend itself to early productivity. I’d prefer to write in the afternoons, but that’s also when home life is at its busiest. And since I can’t simply switch the “creative zone” on and off at will, this website has become my way of capturing ideas when they arrive.

On the Galactic Tales and Celluloid Dreams pages, I’ve tried to weave in both my personal influences and standout examples from the genres I love. It’s probably a 50/50 balance between research and lived experience, which makes me feel that growing up in the pre-digital age wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Watching styles evolve over centuries fascinates me. In earlier times, when entertainment was scarce, stories stretched on and on. Readers back then probably wished the ride would never stop. But modern storytelling has changed. From the 1970s to now, pacing has grown tighter: less setup, more signposting, and neatly packaged arcs. There’s little time for lingering reflections or wandering down alternative paths—the hero or heroine is always on to the next adventure.

I notice the same impatience in my work with people today. We talk a lot about critical thinking, but so often it feels like parroting—especially when the material comes from a video. Real engagement and reflection seem harder to come by. Too often, discussion doesn’t go beyond the superficial before emotions take over. I agree with that bit of internet wisdom: seeing something is perspective, hearing something is opinion. But truth and goodness? Philosophers have debated those for millennia, filling endless pages. How could we possibly uncover them in a twenty-minute YouTube clip?

Rant over. What I really want is to channel some of that philosophical wrestling into my own stories and poems. I don’t want to just tell stories; I want readers to find meaning. Not necessarily my meaning—understanding is something each person constructs for themselves, within the framework that society provides. But if I can offer raw materials, and more importantly, a vision for progression, then I’ll feel I’ve done something worthwhile.

SSBK – Jim Cobb