It is silent here.
No laughter. No voices. No keyboard clicks of wonderment and joy.
It is empty here. Mostly, it has always been that way. The longer I do this writing act of desperation, the wiser I become as to my own brilliance and star-power. I got nothing.
I’ve tried the various techniques to build audience and traffic. Did the hours and hours of visits to other writers and other sites, leaving traces of my own passing—calling cards and invitations for others to come back here and play.
Natch.
I posted two poems yesterday: one on WordPress and one here on Substack. I have over 3,000 theoretical followers between the two. I cross-posted and re-posted across a dozen other sites and social media hubs. Fishing for clicks.
Wait, what is that sound? Do you hear it? It is only the wind whispering. Across the Ethernet, the packet wind chortling ever so softly: “loser.”
Using the wrong clickbait again.
Yesterday’s grand total views across my sites: 132 views.
And 27 were for a post from 2013 about Malusdomesticaphobia. Yes, I have a post about the fear of apples. And yes, it is actually a very good post. IMHO.
I guess I should take solace that I do own a top hit for Fear of Apples and Malusdomesticaphobia. I am a (minor) Google god! SEO, bite me. Or at least bite my apple. (Fun fact: when I first used Malusdomesticaphobia it was considered a made up word. Now it’s used on TV shows.)
Why do I bother? Been years of posting now. Almost daily. I should probably stop wasting my time.
Or at least stop fretting about how many people read these words. Stop getting mesmerized by the ebb and flow of metrics.
So tell me, does anyone actually care about reading these posts? Or should I just pack it all in and fuggedaboutit...
I know mainly what I am doing wrong is writing crappy, meaningless poetry without any pretty pictures. I should include pictures. Pretty pictures of naked women to accompany my poems. Of course, if I had naked women to take pictures of, well, I wouldn’t be writing poetry. I’d have other things on my mind. Or at least on my face.
OH. There now—maybe that will get me some more hits! Salacious, delicious sexual content. But no.
Okay, carry on then. I did my semi-regular angst-dump on WTF am I doing writing this crap and paying for the privilege of hosting on various sites.
The reality is sinking in at this point. I am quite adequate with words. I’m just not talented at it. Yet no matter what, I will always scrawl out my random mediocre stanzas that leak from another dimension. I can’t help it. Gotta write.
Yeah, I know: life isn’t fair, and that is just the way it is. Yes, I saw Labyrinth. I get the life lesson already. Oh maybe I should write about the fear of goblin apples?
Bueller? Anyone?
Adding my Wordpress All Time Views Top Posts just for laughs.
My all time number one post. A recipe on how to reuse leftovers. How poetic.
I think you’re a talented writer, man. I just don’t know how discovery and viralness? (Not sure if that is a word) works for good writing these days. I feel like society as a whole treats writing, poetry, literature as a fringe thing and video content reigns supreme. However, there will always be people who appreciate your art. Keep posting and pushing.
Oohh, do I know.... I'm always enjoying your writings ✨️🦋