Still trying to find some ways of posting photos on these blog posts. The native Write.as way is to use Snap.as, their own photo hosting app.
I also tried embedding pictures from Google Photos, but I can't make this work. If you enter the link to a picture in Google Photos, it is clickable, but won't embed the picture.
Snap.as has an annoying bug of rotating photos in portrait mode and rendering them as if they were in landscape mode. The workaround I discovered was to use CSS and a rotate command.
<img class="rotateimg270" src="https://i.snap.as/0YOEjU5.jpg" alt="jerm and ship" />
Though as we saw, it rotates the image.
In fact, even if I take a selfie in landscape, it turns it upside down
But you can rotate it with the rotateimg CSS class
<img class="rotateimg180" src="https://i.snap.as/E8DdV06.jpg" alt="selfie" />
I even have to remember to hold my phone the right way up for a landscape selfie! and it's not the way I intuitively do always. viz. the controls must be on the left.
It's a glitchy kind of thing that is being discussed in the Write.as forum. Maybe they'll find a way of correcting it, sometime.
So I'm taking the plunge and taking a trial subscription with Write.as. It's billed as a minimalist platform for blogging and just about any kind of writing you want to post on the Web. It's cheaper than Wordpress, and without all the extra features which make Wordpress more of a tool for businesses (or individuals!) to produce any kind of ambitious website. Write.as is simply for blogging and plain writing.
Let's give it a try and see what happens.
First issue: you can include photos in your posts, but if the picture is taken in portrait orientation it rotates it. Why? And how can you stop it?
When I am gone I would like it to be remembered
that I took pleasure in the common things of life
delighted in the joys of Everyday
waking in the morning to life and breath and sound
and sight and smell, and the taste of bread
and the human voice and touch of those I love.
That everything is Gift — and more than this —
that there’s a Giver to whom one may give thanks.
That Everyday brings news of discoveries
fresh adventures of learning and knowing
words to hear and read and chew on, and minds to meet,
music to charm the ear and people I love
with whom to share the things that I have found
who’ll share with me what they have found also
I’d like it to be remembered —
that I was kind to others and myself
that I would smile at people (not at cameras)
laugh when I caught myself being over serious
that truth and beauty made my spirit soar
that I was wise with the wisdom of my years
yet innocent as the child who still, somewhere,
plays in my soul
that I loved questions more than answers
stories to tell, yet better, to inhabit —
that I dreamed that there could be a better world
yet never hated this one that isn’t so
nor gave up hope of how it all might be.
At day’s end never closed my eyes in sleep
without I blessed the Author of my life.
If this is what I’d like remembered when I’m gone
let it become my habit while I’m still here.
I started my first blog a long time ago. So long ago that I've forgotten exactly when, probably very early in the 21st century.
Its very earliest format was simply an HTML file on my website, which I updated and re-uploaded every time there was a new post: it was more of an online daily journal than anything.
Then I started using Blogger, — which apparently still exists. But I wanted more: my own domain name and more bells and whistles. So I changed to Wordpress: a paid option.
But it's become increasingly complex and feels 'bloated', and some of the features that used to be included in the Basic package, you can now only access from the more expensive Business package. I don't need all that stuff, but I'd like some of it.
Scott Nesbit quotes John O’Nolan, founder of the blogging platform Ghost, as saying that WordPress had:
too much stuff everywhere, too much clutter, too many (so many) options getting in the way of what I really want to do: publish content.
So, I'm exploring Write.as. Let's see how it goes.
