On Blogs and Blogging

As with anything, there’s a lot of advice out there about writing a successful blog and making money from it. I’ve read a lot of it – it would, after all, be quite nice to make a decent living from a blog, writing a few hundred, maybe even a thousand, words a day and leaving it at that.
The one piece of advice that really stuck with me, though, was consistency. Write and blog consistently. Stick to the same time or day, so that people know when to check back.
Except that, if someone’s following you, they get an update anyway. People who don’t follow you probably meander around the internet and if what you wrote struck a chord, will probably pop back now and again. Every so often, there’ll be something new for them to read.
I try to keep to regular days. I do, honestly. I try for “series” – like with the Shakespeare. But (yup, you guessed it) I haven’t got around to reading Othello yet. So I skipped Wednesday. Bad form, I know. But I felt guilty not having read it. I feel like I should make excuses, like at school with not-done homework. I should say I’ve been horrendously busy or something. My reason is really the “something”. It might be simply because I don’t have a physical book: they’re all on my Kindle. Normally I only read it avidly when I’m travelling. That and I’m meandering on the internet.
But in the interests of being me, and not trying to do what others tell me, but rather to find my own way, my blogs are going to become more sporadic. I aim for every few days, and every once in a while my thoughts on whichever Shakespeare I’ve just read, but the rest is going to be more freefall. More streams-of-consciousness.
I shall leave with just this. A classmate from uni has just published a novel on Kindle. It’s called The Oystercatchers (by HE Bidgood, if you’re interested) and it’s about the Faroe Islands during World War II. I’ve only just started it, so I can’t comment on the entire thing, but this I will say: If the writing continues as it has started, I don’t think I care if the story’s terrible. I love the writing. I’m jealous.

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