The Damp Squib

A few months ago I decided to venture into a massive online presence, the purpose of which was to build a greater awareness for this blog.  Why?  Because (like millions of other people out there) I thought I had something worth listening to, something worth reading.

Was I jealous of teenage girl blogs that seem to have 10,000 followers?  Maybe.  Unlikely though.

I asked myself the other day - who am I writing for?  And the answer is - anyone willing to read it.  I'd love to be able to influence the world - change opinions, make it a better place by writing about the destructive nature of bullying, how we should all recycle, and how my one wish would be for an end to hatred and intolerance.

I decided then that pouring time and effort and money into promoting my words is a waste of time.
Why?  Well, my website (designed specifically to draw people into and around my social sites) has had 8 visitors in total.  Eight!  So links added to blog posts asking for visitors have achieved nothing.

My subscription to Blogarama promoted the site well, and my posts went from 10 or 12 views, to thousands - but despite getting almost 3,000 views, my last post got one +1 and no comments.
To me, it's never been about getting views or building a following - it has always been about interaction - building relationships, commenting on something, feeding back to someone, touching another life somewhere on the planet.

My expanded online presence has not worked.
Oh well, back to the drawing board!

Writing

I’ve always enjoyed writing – I think because the stories have a way of transporting you from this world to any other.  Stories can draw you in, wrap you in an alternative reality and leave you happy, disturbed, afraid, sentimental.

I have written short stories, a full length sci-fi novel (never published, it was way too awful for that!) and blog posts.  I’ve kept a diary, written long, long letters to friends, and I keep a journal which is a cross between a scrapbook, sketchpad, diary, to do list and photo album. 

When my daughter was born 11 years ago, I started a Word document, and I wrote about everything about her – how I felt, how confused I was when she cried for no apparent reason, how tired I felt, how useless I felt.  I would add a new paragraph or two every day, then every week, then each month, and so it grew.

As she grew I wrote about her first word, her first laugh, her favourite foods, her favourite TV programme, and her favourite toys.  Then about the things that became important to her, school, friendships, sports, talents, aspirations.

I only stopped writing it last year, because she’s began to keep a diary of her own.  She’s old enough to remember her milestone moments herself now.

I love writing.  I love the idea that someone, somewhere, could be reading this and getting a fresh idea for a project of their own – that I might be reaching across countless miles and touching, albeit briefly, another life out there.

When I began this blog, I had the fanciful notion that it would be read all over the world – that I would attract followers keen to read the next insightful, quippy observation.  I dreamed of people leaving me comments, feedback, encouragement – I thought a community would develop and grow.  Sadly nothing of that sort has happened.  I was excited when I saw a post had 22 views.  Now I’m lucky if I get 3! 

So, help me out here, casual visitor to this page – please leave me a comment or two and answer this – is my writing boring?  What is it lacking? Where am I going wrong?   Don’t get me wrong – this isn’t some self-pity plea.  I still want that dream to come true – but as with most things, you need some critique to develop skills past their infancy.    Thank you!