I started blogging as a way to tell the story of my journey back from burnout.
My first few days were astronomical with hundreds of views and likes. Then, as the tale became more than an instant hit of somebody else’s mental misfortune, views fell away quicker than flies on a drying turd. For a self-confessed lunatic with self-worth issues, this was bad.
But eh, with my newly found self-confidence regarding my madness, I pushed on through the barren patch and completed my book-blog. I was certain that I would be discovered. I still had issues with reality whilst reality just plain ignored me.
Like a good friend of mine, I met people online. Unlike that good friend, the people I met shared an enthusiasm for writing (mainly about their issues). The people (women) my friend met had issues concerning gratification of their earthly parts. In many ways our interactions were similar: exposure, engagement, a clearing of the creative tubes, and then another post. For once, my writing appeared to be reaching a consenting audience.
After about two months in, I had completed the blogging of the book, so turned my attention to writing sharp observations of the human condition. I also wrote amusing nonsense, reposted a few good pieces from others, completed short stories, dumped a few episodes of my various novels on the unsuspecting; even wrote a poem. Literary whore, I had become.
Oh, and blogging can make you famous. I was soon followed by one young woman who added me to her followers by following me. I was new to this, so it felt as if somebody had crossed the dance-floor just to boogey with me. I was flattered and could even forgive her massive following (thousands and thousands) all lapping up some form of self-help/ amazing-house-magazine type nonsense. All the while I had been opening the crypt to my darkest fears. Why view the dead when the living have so much more colour?
Round about that time the first waves of jealousy began flowing from my wounds.
Another thing happened. I met other people, read their writing, learnt how to cut out the crap, and liked these others more than many people I have met in the ‘real world’. Unfortunately, as with the ‘real world’ people sometimes disappear. One charming older woman just fell off the airwaves. I tried to chase up any evidence of her later existence, but she was gone.
Recently, another lady went missing for a while and, as I knew she was older and had various conditions, my heart began to wane. Fortunately, she turned up again today. But the thing is that blogging is similar to having seances, there is nothing corporeal about the beings that we believe we are speaking to and sometimes something happens to whisk them away from us and the space around them.
I have a guy in New Zealand who I follow and he follows me.
He has become a stalwart of support throughout this last year. He has a good take on things and turns them into verse. He is wise and funny in an ideal cocktail sort of way. Like me, he is rather crap at garnering followers. We don’t do the right things. We don’t seek out and follow for those targets to follow us. We don’t comment and engage. We just put our stuff out there like smalls on a washing line. Whoever happens along can smell the freshness of our undergarments or just pass on by. The latter is the wiser option.
Another blogger lives in France and she has had such a devastating period of existence that I admire her resilience whilst occasionally worrying about her well-being. I miss them all when we are not communicating.
So, why do I still blog?