Writers are a needy bunch. We say we write for ourselves and we do. We don’t care if anyone else reads it.
When someone enjoys something we wrote we are over the moon. Seriously over the moon. Like ‘call NASA’ over the moon.
We are like the northern lights, like the aurora borealis, flashing our happiness.
I have been blogging over three years. I’m not neurotic about statistics. They are helpful for popular topics but I do my own thing.
Recently I saw my statistics for views spike by well over 600 views in a short period of time. Short, like hours.
No new post in two days so what’s up?
I hadn’t seen this activity since I was Freshly Pressed.
Checked that but no, I wasn’t Freshly Pressed. It was single views of old posts.
Closer examination showed that someone had read all my posts – old and new. Way old. I have written well over 500 essays for my blog. That’s a lot of reading, some good, some ok and some meh.
I have no idea what this means but I’ve been letting my imagination run away with me. Here are some possible scenarios.
❤ Steven Spielberg found my blog and has decided to do a movie on my cats or the exercise ladies of the circuit or stupid people. I hope it’s animated so I don’t have to work on casting.
❤ A publisher likes my style and will offer me a book deal. No, they don’t look for new writers, they run from them. But just in case, I am thinking up titles. How about “Fifty Shades of Fur,” “Gone Cat,” or maybe “Not That Kind of Stupid.”
❤ My ninth grade boyfriend found my blog and is sorry it didn’t work out. (I can’t figure out a way this will make money for me unless he turned out filthy rich and will bankroll my every wish).
I’m out of even outrageous ideas.
There must be a good explanation that ends up with me getting money.