Oh, loads. I used to write up all kinds of posts, some of them long and involved, and then chicken out and not post because I figured what I had to say wasn’t important enough.
But nowadays, I usually move on even before typing them up.
I seem to go through cycles of activity and lurkerdom, but always a certain fraction of my posts fail to make it through my phone line.
I do it pretty often. I usually type out a reply, then look at it and see it’s not adding anything useful. Or I start to open a thread and realize it’s stupid.
Sometimes my reply is something I might say around close friends, because they know where I’m coming from, but strangers might interpret it differently. It’s also very difficult to tell “tone of voice” in a posting. So if you are just kidding, you better say so.
I usually self-censor before I even bring up a reply window. If I have nothing to add, I don’t add it. Except in Rue’s MMPs - the whole point of that thread is to add your own personal nothings.
There have been a few dozen times when I changed my mind after typing out a response, or when the boards were wonky, if I couldn’t get it to post after a couple of tries, I usually decided what I wanted to saw didn’t merit the frustration.
I try to avoid “Me, too” posts, although I’ll post condolences or congratulations rather freely.
The ones I don’t normally submit are the ‘yeah, and me.’ posts*. For example, I was going to post a reply to the thread in CS about Underworld saying something along the lines of ‘Yeah I liked it, it was a no-brainer film with a pretty lady in leather, etc. etc.’ but I chose not to because it didn’t really add anything to the thread (loads of people had already replied saying what I was going to), and I feel guilty about taking up bandwidth needlessly.
(looks at post count)
Not often enough, apparently. I like to think my contributions increase the signal-to-noise ratio, rather than the reverse. But some days I’m not so sure I’m managing that.
Probably a third to half of my posts that get written don’t get posted. Not the mention all the times that I’d like to answer, but decide that I should probably keep my mouth shut, and don’t write anything at all.
Yes, but when my personal nothings are far below the quality of other’s personal nothings, I don’t add on. My personal Muse tends to take an extended coffee break when I really could use its advice and inspiration in replying to a post.
Some days I feel like I could make Joyce’s Ulysses look like a Reader’s Digest excerpt. When hand goes to keyboard, the cranial-to-brachial-to-digital connection craps out somewhere. And the Muse is brewing decaf.
Quite often, by the time the reply thing finally appears I’ve forgotten what I was going to post. Then on other ocassions I decide I can’t be bothered to post …
Ditto, at least recently. I deleted quite a few lengthy posts addressing the SF’ers, partly because I didn’t feel like mixing it up with them, partly because I thought it somewhat of a wasted effort ( the possible edification of lurkers aside ), and partly because others were doing a reasonable job and my input wasn’t necessary, strictly speaking.
I also deleted a number of ME-related posts, for semi-similar reasons ( arguments are often tiresome and repeititive, plus the partisan rhetoric on both sides annoys me ).
More than I used to, less often than I should. I sometimes find, while typing a reply, that I know less than I thought I did, and I realize that what seems a sharp correction may actually be a bold step off the edge of a cliff. I delete those, when I spot 'em.
I stop myself a lot… Half the time, I just lose interest in what I was saying, so I figure if I’m bored with it, no one else wants to read it either. Or it’s a classic case “That sounded so much better in my head”… I see something on the screen and realize… Eh, that’s not really worth posting.
Occasionally, but more often than not I’ll let the post go through only to wish I hadn’t hit that button. Nothing I write is world shattering and I often feel totally out of my depth among such witty and knowledgeable people.