I live in a town where dog poop is front page news. It was thrown over a fence. In tiny baggies, no less.
I shit you not.
In other news, I’m still working on the article which will reveal the person behind “Boy Series…” I want it to be perfect. In fact I don’t think I’ve worked on any short piece of work this hard, ever. I hope someone actually reads it. 😛
It’s still as cold as a polar bear’s poo … thrown over a fence … Never mind.
My mind is too muddled by all the things going on in real life.
The wind blows where ever it wants to blow. It’s warming up outside and so the gusts are fierce. It’s days like today when branches weakened from the weight of snow and ice come down on roofs and cars (two things I’ve been having problems with of late). Times like this I listen to the creaking of the trees around my house and I want to say to the wind:
Wind, dude, stop blowin’ already. Get outta my trees. C’mon man. Ye’r makin’ me nervous, dude.
But you can’t reason with the wind. It blows where ever it wants.
Like ice. It forms when it snows, and then the snow melts and the water sits there until it freezes into sheets of slippery pavement that have me flailing as I deliver my newspapers. Like the wind, I want to say to the ice:
Ice! Stop being so damn slippery!
But you can’t reason with the ice. It keeps on being slick. So much so that I thought this morning, as I slid around the block not moving my feet because the wind was blowing me on this ice, maybe this combo ain’t so bad after all.
There are reasons why unpublished authors don’t walk around telling people they’re writing a novel. First and foremost is the puzzled, glazed-over expression that immediately comes over the other person’s face, as they think to themselves, What kind of a flake am I talking to? Then quickly on the heels of that comes the hasty change-of-subject or the hands-behind-the-back stroll-away as they whistle and hope the author doesn’t follow them all the way home.
But it comes to something when an novelist’s family members don’t even take him/her seriously.
Are you a novelist? Do you ever hear your significant other say, over the phone, thinking you’re not listening, “Oh yeah, it’s just a hobby,” regarding your writing? Does the person supposedly looking after your kids allow them to come and ask you questions while you’re trying to work? Do people wander in to ask you if you’d like coffee while you’re trying to write?
It’s said that marketing a book is harder than writing, but on some days I seriously wonder. It takes a great deal of concentration to write something as complicated as a novel. There are many things to keep track of, characters to write and to get into, believe it or not. Getting into a character’s head so that his or her voice comes through well takes time.
So if you walk in on a working author to ask if he/she wants a cup of coffee (the answer is no) and he/she turns to you slowly and asks you in return if you’d care to have your fingernails removed with a screwdriver, chances are the author is in the middle of a torture scene and it has nothing to do with you. Still, back away with your hands behind your back and try to remember next time, IT’S NOT JUST A HOBBY!
I consider myself a fairly observant person. I’m certainly aware of what works and what doesn’t, most of the time. It’s taken me a year on WordPress however, to figure out a few things concerning how to go about getting followers, and how to keep them engaged.
Some of my recent realisations came about as a result of Opinionated Man’s posts and the comments we’ve shared between us, and also because of my struggle to get people to read and follow my fiction blog. It’s here: http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ by the way, in case you’re interested.
I think half the key to building a following on WordPress is in the comments themselves. Commenting will let people know you’re invested in what you write, and that you care what people think about what you write. It’s what separates your blog from other media – newspapers and the like – which give little chance to allow the reader to express his or her thoughts on the topic. So what is the other half?
This is where I’ve picked up what I think is the problem I’m having with my fiction blog. It’s the content. Not that my fiction is necessarily bad, mind you, (go to http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ to decide for yourself) but unless you’re looking to read fiction, you’re not going to look up that particular blog.
I was advised when I first began at WordPress to decide on a theme for my blog. I started out, nevertheless, with a mish-mash of parenting, articles about life in general, as well as fiction and poetry. I didn’t notice much of a difference in who followed my blog after I started my fiction blog (at http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ ), but even though I let people know it existed, people rarely visited it. The realisation I’ve come to is that my fiction is probably not going to change anyone’s life.
When I write about the trials and tribulations of parenting, particularly two special needs children, people want to know what I’ve learned. When I talk about being part of the sandwich generation, people out there can relate. My readers come to me because they’re hoping to share something. They’re hoping they may be able to offer suggestions (the comments again) or they’re looking to find a fellow sufferer in me, to possibly allow themselves to feel less alone.
My point in all this is, when I blog, I have an audience. Who my audience is will depend on what I write. If I blog about something no one can relate to, I can’t expect to have anyone follow me; I can’t expect comments, and comments are what keep people engaged.
My fiction blog? It’s another kettle of fish altogether. Fiction, without a cover blurb, is an unknown entity until people begin to read it. On top of that, I probably could have chosen a better title. I’ve learned that a blog’s moniker can seriously narrow an audience. A title like “Dark Fiction of the Occult” (not mine) isn’t going to catch the attention of people looking for chicklit. The title on my blog doesn’t say anything about fiction whatsoever. I’m currently in the middle of posting a series (which is really great – you should go read it at http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ ) but as soon as it’s finished I will perform a complete revamp. As it is, it could easily be mistaken as a foodie site.
Go ahead and learn from my mistake. I’m humble enough. But most of all encourage comments and write in a way that relates to your audience. If you want followers, don’t talk about yourself in a way that narrows your post so much that it can only possibly relate to you.
WordPress is a wonderful, interactive site if you want it to be. If you want followers, give them something they want to follow – and for goodness sakes, follow them back and comment on their sites too!
(Note: All mentions of my fiction blog in this post are strictly in the interest of humour. In no way was this post written in order to promote http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ . Thank you for reading.)
Most of us have jobs. Some of us have careers. We all have bad days. You know bad days, right? The sort where you stub your toes on anything available that doesn’t move; your hair won’t do what you want it to; you put your shirt on inside out and don’t realize it until you hear the guy in the next cubicle who you hate with a passion, sniggering… One of those days.
I was cruising around Facebook, wondering what in the world I could write about today, and I came across a picture which has no relevance to this post other than that it inspired me to think: would I want to go to the dentist when he’s having a bad day? The answer, still in my head, was a resounding NO. If you’re wondering, yes, it did resound, and yes, just imagining the idea of a sadistic dentist hurt me in ways that my imagination should not be allowed to hurt me.
Then I pondered other professionals with whom I would not want to deal on their baddest days: a mechanic, a chef, a radiologist whose job was to perform a breast x-ray, a journalist doing an interview… the list goes on.
All this led me to wonder if there’s a good job to be doing on a bad day. I suppose if the job is solitary, there’s only oneself to harm. But even as a writer – a job that can’t get any more solitary – I abuse the hell out of my characters.
So, what do you think? Is there a professional you would feel safe with if they’re having a bad day? Can you think of anyone worse than a dentist?
Davey Jones: (with an Indian accent so thick, I could barely understand him) Is this Ms. Hill?
Me: (with my usual response) No I’m sorry, she’s not here right now. Can I take a message?
DJ: Are you a family member?
Me: Yes.
DJ: My name is Davey Jones and I’m calling from Windows operating system about your computer.
Me: I don’t have a computer.
DJ: Oh… well maybe you have a laptop?
Me: (looking at two laptops on the table) I don’t have a laptop either.
DJ: Oh… well maybe you have a PC?
Me: I don’t have a computer at all.
DJ: How old are you?
Me: That’s none of your business.
DJ: Are you a virgin?
Me: (hangs up, laughs out loud)
The phone number he called from is 607-723-1168. If you see this number on your call display, and you’re speaking to Davey Jones, please please please! tell him to fuck off on my behalf.
Memories. They go back, if we’re lucky, to our early childhood. I remember waking up in the summer to hear my dad mowing the grass, or heading out to play golf. I remember playing with Barbies – I had this really cool miniature floor lamp that plugged in to a battery. I’d set up a living room in the 18″x18″x18″ cupboard in my parents’ coffee table for my dolls and turn on the light and close the door. Now that was exciting for about 30 seconds.
One of my earliest memories of television though, apart from the show “Laugh-In,” is a trailer for a movie, called What Do You Say To A Naked Lady? Thanks to Youtube, I can revisit that disturbing memory.
Allow me to share it with you:
What’s your earliest memory, disturbing or otherwise?
lindaghill.com 