So bluemoaner (meh side) was having a moan about boring people, and resorting to have people who are ‘really interested in his writing’ email him with their requests.
It got me to thinking about the feedback to posts ratio here in the goddess room.
I’ve been writing on here for almost two years now, and some of the best stuff I’ve written got no comments at all, were ignored, lost in the shuffle and now so deeply buried in the Archives, I self don’t even know where to find them.
Not only that, but if I go a week or two without writing anything even remotely meaty, the traffic to this blog dies down dramatically. Start writing again and POW! up goes the readership.
I’m still quite gobsmacked, the goddess room is projected to hit about 70,000 readers (hits, blah, blah, blah) sometime in the next week. When I started this blog (as I’ve written before) I did it to please myself and I still write in it to please myself; although I do consider those regulars who get worried about me when they don’t hear my mouth for a few days.
I guess it’s because I’ve written for regular publication for so many years, that I’m immune to who comments and who doesn’t comment; immune to who reads and who doesn’t read. Writing a newspaper column in the Caribbean has the tendency to inure you to the whims of readership. Readership is nice, but where I come from the people who read are rarely mouthy about it, unless you touch some raw open nerve and even that is rare.
How many personally insightful pieces have I churned out for publication, and never recieved a single letter, phone call or response from anyone about it.
Okay, so blogging is different. The immediacy and instant gratification of blogging is not the same as writing for print, but you know, maybe it’s my history as a print journalist in the largely indifferent Caribbean that has made me so laissez faire about other people’s opinions on the things I write.
I love feedback, don’t get me wrong. However, a lack of feedback isn’t going to stop me from pouring out what mental processes I choose to reveal into this little encapsulated space in binary I have going on here.
Chile, the day I decide to stop writing in this blog, is probably when JS shuts it’s doors forever, or someother equally horrific occurance like being unable to type (and even then I will become a dictaphone addict quick, quick). Since I can’t see those things happening, again, let me reiterate: Big Mami can be found here. I’m here for the duration.
Over at Tribelife.com we have a little slogan, “Talk Yuh Talk”.
Comment. Don’t comment. Lurk. Don’t Lurk. Take your pick.
I’ll still be here.