counting buttons
Blogger wanted me to add all these buttons, so I did. Will that increase traffic? Do I care? A bit, though not as much as I once did.
I used to have a little number count on my page but something I clicked or added made it go away. After a half-assed attempt to find out what happened, I had one of those mini-epiphanies. Its absence is a Good Thing. I can't be writing my blog -- or my books -- with too much attention paid to traffic. And my nature is that any attention is too much. I'm one of those authors who used to watch those Amazon, Fictionwise and any other "You Are (un)Popular!" numbers go up and down.
In one direction, abandonment, which leads to heartbreak. Or, if you become popular, extreme self-consciousness sets in. All of the above have happened to me at various points since 2004. Madness, heartbreak, paralyzing self-consciousness. Okay, maybe I can't blame the madness on you guys. And it wasn't really madness. But I blame you invisible readers (and the readers who don't stop by any more) for the constant craving for chocolate and the fact that I ignore my laundry. Because. . . why not? And while I'm at it, I blame all you non-readers for the oil leak in the gulf. See? This is bigger than just me.
Ok. If I'm going to get silly, I'm off to write novels.
OT UPDATE: OY! There's a body in my family room. Granted, he's just sleeping---But jeez. No, I'm not whining. I do love having extra people around, as long as they don't require my attention. Their aura is good. Makes me feel like a success in the real world when my kids' friends crash here.
I used to have a little number count on my page but something I clicked or added made it go away. After a half-assed attempt to find out what happened, I had one of those mini-epiphanies. Its absence is a Good Thing. I can't be writing my blog -- or my books -- with too much attention paid to traffic. And my nature is that any attention is too much. I'm one of those authors who used to watch those Amazon, Fictionwise and any other "You Are (un)Popular!" numbers go up and down.
In one direction, abandonment, which leads to heartbreak. Or, if you become popular, extreme self-consciousness sets in. All of the above have happened to me at various points since 2004. Madness, heartbreak, paralyzing self-consciousness. Okay, maybe I can't blame the madness on you guys. And it wasn't really madness. But I blame you invisible readers (and the readers who don't stop by any more) for the constant craving for chocolate and the fact that I ignore my laundry. Because. . . why not? And while I'm at it, I blame all you non-readers for the oil leak in the gulf. See? This is bigger than just me.
Ok. If I'm going to get silly, I'm off to write novels.
OT UPDATE: OY! There's a body in my family room. Granted, he's just sleeping---But jeez. No, I'm not whining. I do love having extra people around, as long as they don't require my attention. Their aura is good. Makes me feel like a success in the real world when my kids' friends crash here.
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