Well! Here we are. It is…what. Wednesday? Yes. Wednesday it is. The weather has cooled down quite a bit and I can actually turn off the air conditioning and open the windows. This is a lovely development. I am so pleased. Thank you, June!
Before we get started with the Bloggiversary Extravaganza, you all need to pop on over to Snobbery and see what’s cooking. No, seriously. Click on this. I MEAN IT. If you right click and choose “open in a new tab” you won’t even lose your place on this page. GO GO GO.
I hope you clicked because this isn’t going to make sense if you didn’t. sj and Susie are having a contest! It is a ZOMBIECORN FICTION CONTEST! What do the winners win? Well, all manner of awesome things, like a Zombiecorn teeshirt and magnets and actual UNICORN MEAT ZOMG, but on top of THAT, you could win an ORIGINAL PIECE OF ARTWORK BY ME! Yes, it is true. I am going to make a piece of zombiecorn artwork and frame that sucker and YOU COULD WIN IT! How? Write something about a zombie that is a unicorn or a unicorn that is a zombie. No more than 1,200 words. Full details on the post I linked you to, which is WHY you were supposed to CLICK, you rule-breaking yahoos.
Don’t you want a piece of Amy-artwork in your house? Don’t you even say “but…um…Amy? You’re a terrible artist and you can’t even draw a straight line, so…I don’t really want that?” LISTEN SLAPPY. I have a PLAN, ok? And it’s going to be AWESOME. And you are going to be SO ENVIOUS of the winner. I can’t even tell you how envious you’re going to be. Like, perhaps so envious you can’t SLEEP. Do you really want to lock yourself out of future good nights of sleep? Well? DO YOU?I didn’t THINK so. I don’t want to give away the whole thing, here, but I will assure you it will be a thing of magnificent wonder to behold. I will most likely show it to you next week, so THEN you’ll want to enter. Oh, yes, you will.
ANYWAY, on with the show. I have a billion things to do tonight, not the least of which is to start the new Stephen King book which is seriously calling to me as I write this. “AMY I AM WAITING FOR YOU TO PICK ME UP!” says Joyland. It’s a siren song I find hard to resist, you guys.
So today’s very sage bit of blogging advice that I have learned from two full years of bloggity bloggery is:
Very few people care that you are a blogging superstar, yo.
Before I start, I know what you’re thinking. “People care about The Bloggess! People care about Wil Wheaton!” Yes. Wait. You haven’t even let me talk yet. Shush, interrupty, you’re jumping the gun. That’s not a euphemism in this case, but could be, if used alternately.
I was petrified to tell real life people I was blogging, once I started. I had a respectable following by the time I finally did. People were commenting. I had made friends through blogging, real ones. I had formed a community. So at that point, I started thinking more about marketing than I had in the past. “I need to start commenting more on other people’s blogs,” thought Amy of about a year and a half ago. “And cross-posting my posts on more places, like Facebook and Tumblr. And…shit. I SHOULD TELL MY FRIENDS I HAVE A BLOG.”
This scared me, because sometimes I wrote about my real-life friends (in a nice way – if there was someone I hated, I just didn’t mention them, in case it somehow got back to them. I can be a dick, but I try to mind my Ps and Qs as much as I can.) What if the real-life friends were all “WHAT? I OBJECT TO BEING ON YOUR BLOG EVEN THOUGH YOU ONLY USED MY FIRST INITIAL AND MADE ME SEEM REALLY AWESOME?” or what if they read it and HATED it or what if they read one of my more personal posts and (ugh) tried to give me COMFORT or SYMPATHY which are two things I hate so much they give me the vapors?
But I figured, hell, they’re a built-in audience. They love me! They will want to read what I’ve written, right?
So I put it up on Facebook and was all scared-faced and nervous and guess what happened. No, seriously, guess.
Two of my real-life friends read my blog. TWO.
Well, I already had two real-life friends reading my blog, but they don’t live around here, they are long-distance friends and I love them both to distraction and they are supportive of all my endeavors so I told them early on about the blog. After my big Facebook announcement, two others started reading. That makes the total of people I really know in real life four. (And I’ve met two bloggers since then, so six, I suppose.)
People don’t care if you’re a big-time blogger, you guys. The world’s a busy place and unless you’re internetty (and most of my friends aren’t) they don’t care about what’s happening in the blogosphere. I’m willing to bet that even Wil Wheaton and The Bloggess have a number of friends who are all, “Oh, you’re still big into that internet thing? That’s so WEIRD. Telling things to people you don’t even know. Huh.”
Recently one of my theater friends (who has the most impressive Facebook following on this group he runs) reposted one of my theatery posts on his page. People I knew came out of the woodwork to read that one. However, none of them commented on my blog. They commented either on his post, or sent me private Facebook messages about the post. Which I’m not bagging on. It’s nice that they commented at all. But it felt weird to have people I know reading the blog, because they just don’t. It’s not a secret – almost everyone I know knows I spend WAY too much time doing this on a regular basis, and are almost completely uniformly confused as to why – it’s just that they don’t care. “Huh, blogging, you say?” my friends say. “Well, that’s a thing I heard about once on 20/20, I think.”
Don’t go into blogging thinking you’re going to be a superstar. Even if you get a decent follower count and commenter count and such, you’re still just this schmo in real life. (Or you’re awesome in your day-to-day, whatever. I don’t know your life.) You’re only a big deal on the little glowing box with a keyboard attached, for as much as that’s worth. Yes, it’s awesome. Yes, I love my online community more than just about anything. But there’s also a whole real life out there, and you need to tend to that as well. You can’t live in your computer, as comforting as it might seem, sometimes.
Off my soapbox for the day. NOW! What do you think is the SIXTH-most popular post of the past two years? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? What the hell, Bueller didn’t show up today? Where the hell could that kid BE?
The sixth-most popular post of the past two years…
…with 739 hits in the past 9 months…
OK, much like yesterday’s post, this post isn’t getting all the hits because people are interested in my take on plastic surgery, or my biting commentary on social events, or even because we, as a culture, are curious why women would want to do things like this to themselves when they’re beautiful to begin with.
Nope. This post has such high stats because the pervs like it.
I get search terms every month for “Barbie girl naked” and “Barbie girl and anime girl naked” and I’d tell you more of the search terms but THINK OF THE CHILDREN WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN. Things like “I’d like to take the Barbie girl snorkeling.” Only snorkeling is a euphemism and everything in the search term is spelled way worse than that. You get my drift.
I know there are pervs online. Andreas nicely explained Rule 34 to me one day and I was all “NO. Andreas! That is not a thing. Um. Is that…Andreas, please tell me that is not a thing.” Andreas very kindly broke it to me that yes, it is a thing. It’s nice to have a Science Fellow who knows about everything and is good about explaining it to you without you needing to bleach your brain afterward, I just have to say.
(Remind me once bloggiversary week is over to tell you about the guy in my parents’ town and the shoe and my grandmother’s reaction. Seriously, if you don’t remind me, I’ll forget, and it’s a good one.)
However, pervs, the Barbie girl and the anime girl? Seriously? You keep searching for them and I’m pretty sure you want spank-pics and you’re not finding them here. But no matter WHAT pics you find of these poor, delusional, sad chicks, they’re not going to be spank-pics. Because these girls have transformed themselves into cartoons of the lovely young women they used to be.
But, you know, pervs. I don’t know what’s worse, these searches, or the searches you keep doing for wild boar porn, sincerely. It’s like you have a sexy death-wish.
Stay tuned, people of bloggonia. More coming your way tomorrow. WHAT WILL BE NEXT? Shit, I don’t know, I just want to go take a big old bite out of my King book.