The problem with my real blog is that I like to write. I may not be very good at it but it’s what I’m about. I write there to be read. So obviously it’s a bit woe is me when nobody does. I get easily obsessed with things. Dangerously so. Things can consume me.
The blogosphere is so competitive. Yet what is blog success? Often writing isn’t enough. It’s numbers. Oh what PR are you? What’s your DA? How many UV’s do you get? What’s your chart position over at bollocks300? Or buzzfuck? or eshitters?
Often it’s the none writing things that help increase all the above. Like competitions. You get that buzz when the holy stats suddenly go mental. Yay, you think. I’m on my way! You start doing the ‘this’ll score me higher on the blogometer’ shimmy shake.
Then you realise. It’s pointless. If that is the start to success, it’s pretty fucking pointless. It’s vapid. I’d rather have ten visitors over there actually reading something that I’ve written than 600 just visiting to win something.
I just want to write over there. Obviously it would be nice to be liked too. Even better if people like what I write over there too. Not because it gets them something or because they want to dump their link there but because they actually appreciate what I write whether it makes them think, reflect, cringe, change or laugh. Even if it incites them to furiously disagree with me. I want to make them think or feel…. something.
Yet writing alone doesn’t make you successful. It’s not enough. It’s the numbers.
You make a small breakthrough. Someone liked what you write. It gets shared and promoted. Your stats start shagging and reproducing. You get excited. This is It! This is It! I’m not invisible!
But, you know it’s only temporary. You know even though your stats tripled you’re still a tiny fish. Not to mention that you check the almighty Google Analytics to find you actual visitors is half what you thought.
It doesn’t matter. Your blog certainly doesn’t matter and neither do you.
You haven’t even chipped the exterior of the blogworld. You feel deflated. And cheap. Because you whored your self out and for what?
Then you wonder. Do you even want that success? Them carnivorous numbers that eat you up like bloggercrumble? That puts you under pressure to whore yourself out more, to include more crap, to write because you have too not because you have something to say or because you want to. If that’s all it boils down to. Is that even success? Really? Pretty fucking empty.
So I reign myself in. Take a reality check. I’ll never get an award. If I ever get in the top 100 rankings it will be a temporary fluke or a glitch in the system. My DA and PR rank are static. There’s no poncy invites to events nor a trunkload of goodies. I’ll never make even a tiny living out of the public blog
And that’s okay.
Because I have a lil bit of integrity. And I’ll just keep writing over there with the hope someone somewhere might like it. If one person thinks ‘I like that’ then surely that is success?
It’s all about how we perceive it.
How we choose to measure it.
So I hide over here and recollect my marbles. Ban myself from stat watching over there. Try and banish the hunger to be something. The need to compete.
Sometimes you’re so caught up in wanting something, in the chase, that you forget to ask yourself. …. Do you actually even want it at all? Is it even worth it?