Under Pressure

I’m trying to make a name for myself as a writer.  I joined up with the NaBloPoMo (national blog posting month) community over at Blogher.com.  It’s been fun.

It’s been 8 days now.  This is the 9th.

I’ve written every single day.

Sometimes twice (had to throw in some photo challenges and a guest post).

I’m learning the art of cross-posting.  Blogher.com is a phenomenal resource for that.  I’ve set up my own blog there and am getting noticed.  In fact, I wrote a 2nd Blogiversary post on Wednesday that one of the editors at BlogHer apparently really enjoyed, and they decided to feature it on their blogging and social media home page.  It’s gotten over 650 views on that site, and nearly 100 here on my own blog.  It’s humbling and kind of terrifying.  There are people who actually want to read my mindless ramblings.

This inspired me to reach out into the world of Social Media to try to broadcast my blog a bit better, but what I learned in doing so is that full-on blogging is a LOT of work!  There’s far more to legit blogging than just writing the post and hitting publish.  I have to take the time to hash out a coherent blog post, which most days isn’t a challenge, but there are days I just don’t want to write.  Wednesday was one of them, and then I ended up with a post that’s now been featured and seen by over 700 people and shared on multiple Facebook pages and Twitter accounts, none of whom I know personally.  Weird.

It creates a lot of pressure.  All of a sudden, people are reading.  All of a sudden, I feel like there’s a lot of pressure to have good content instead of just rambling about whatever I want to say.   Evidently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.  I found this in my inbox this morning — a post about how much work daily blogging is (and this blog is one that I now subscribe to, after the author commented on one of my posts and I went to her blog to check it out — that’s where all my time goes!)

What seems to snag me the most views is to post about failed attempts at dating.  I mean, I get it, it’s funny.  And if I can’t laugh at myself, I’m going to be left with no option other than to cry and accept my single statehood for EVER… but… I don’t want to, I’d rather laugh.  And I invite you to laugh with me.

I chatted with my Mom and Step-Dad this morning, and expressed that I had to get some writing done today even though today is one of the days where I don’t really feel like writing.  I said I’d post every day though, and I want to stick to that challenge.  My Step-Dad suggested that I write about the pressure that I’m feeling to go on horrible dates so that I have something to write about.  I’ve mentioned it a few times in the past week or so.  This is funny stuff, people want to read it, but eventually I’m going to run out of material and it won’t be funny anymore.  I’ll go back to writing really serious, life and thoughts related posts, which, while interesting to me, don’t seem to generate the same kind of response.  For someone hoping to become a published author in the not-too-distant-future, it would seem that I need to keep writing about what my readers are reading… no?

Luckily, when I logged onto BlogHer to check on comments on my featured post (I was encouraged to continue dialogue with anyone who commented on it), I found that there was a prompt asking us what we’ve learned so far about daily blogging.

I’ve learned that it takes a lot of time to monitor comments and feedback.  I’ve also learned that while so far, most of my feedback has been positive because I haven’t had the reach I’m starting to gain, there will also be moments where I don’t like the feedback I read.

One comment on my post described my thoughts as “meh” because apparently it didn’t have anything to do with actual dating, and it would be much more entertaining if I’d had to get out of a relationship with a full-on cray cray who seemed ‘so normal’ until the cray cray camouflage wore off and he showed his true colours.  Personally, I’m trying to avoid ending up in full-on cray cray relationships, but this comment served to reinforce my Step Dad’s assertion that I should write about the pressure to go on awful dates.

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