Tag Archives: WANA

#endofblog

Ever get the feeling you took a wrong turn?

 

It’s possibly a little over dramatic, but today is the day I stop blogging. Maybe forever, maybe just for a while. Sme friends have been kind enough to ask why, so here goes.

 

A couple of years ago, I was blogging under the banner “The Great Canadian Adventure.” Here was me and my family doing something brave and unusual, throwing all our possessions into a container and moving to a different continent. We were leaving behind family and friends, and blogging seemed a good way to keep everyone updated on our progress and news.

But after a year or more, it wasn’t so important. We were skyping, we were on Facebook, and folks had adjusted to us not turning up to visit. Some had even been out to visit us. I went to a seminar on blogging and how it was an essential tool for the modern writer and took a long look at my own blog. Did it do the job? I bought Kristen Lamb’s book, “We Are Not Alone” and put some of her ideas into proctice. I took her online course, making a bunch of great friends along the way, and yes, I raised the visitor stats on my blog too.

And over the last year I have checked those stats with an obsessive fervour, worrying about making my daily, weekly and monthly quota, trying to find the mystic subject that would ignite the net and get me Freshly Pressed. Should I add video clips? Should I link more per page? Am I mentioning my e-book enough?

On the other side of the Atlantic, one of my writing partners was being just as obsessive about our sales. He sends me regular updates on a spreadsheet, which showed that, while they were still healthy, in most cases sales were falling. We were selling less, despite my impressive readership. The fabled “Word of mouth” recommendation I had been chasing has not materialised.

 

That’s not to say I don’t believe what Kristen has been teaching. I KNOW that her methods work, that a platform is essential for an author, certainly more so now than ever. It may be entirely my fault, but the blog has not improved my situation. In fact, it may have made it worse.

 

Since we hooked up with our publisher all those years ago, TLC Creative have maintained a healthy market share. We produce a new panto each year, and I added to the stock of one act plays on a semi-regular basis. Sketches appeared more often than not, and we’ve even come up with a couple of full-length pieces. But not this year.

This year the only writing I have managed has been the scenes I was tasked with for our pantomime. They were late, the latest I’ve ever produced work for TLC, and far from writing more than I was asked, I scraped the bare minimum.

 

Since I finished my full length play “Merely Players” over a year ago, I have not written a single thing. Other than my blog.

 

Some of you may be sitting at your computers saying “Well, that’s just writer’s block, everyone gets that.”

I would agree, except it’s not that I haven’t had ideas. I have. I’ve had quite a few ideas trot through my brain, but I have not given them the time that I have dedicated to chasing another ten views on my blog, and that has to be wrong. The blog is supposed to be a way of connecting with people so they can be interested in what I write. It’s not supposed to BE all I write.

So the logical thing, the obvious thing, the right thing to do is stop blogging. Stop pouring my available writing time into building castles online and go back to building worlds on other people’s stages. People still find me, and the people who have been in touch most recently did not come to me via my blog. They found the TLC website and contacted me through that.

I’ll still follow with interest the blogs of my friends, and I’ll still use my wordpress id to comment and encourage. But perhaps some time away from staring at the visitor stats will allow me to make some new, imaginary friends and write about their adventures.

 

After all, it’s what I get paid for.

Getting an education and learning a lesson.

Me, at 17. Confirms your worst fears, doesn't it?

I promised myself that this year I would take some kind of course, and the first one that has come up is the “Write it forward” workshop. I’ve signed up for the “Building your Author Brand” class, because it applies to me as a playwright as much as it applies to those aspiring novelists out there. It’s run by Kristen Lamb, my Social Media guru and author of “We Are Not Alone”

It’s just the course I’ve been looking for: It’s relevant to the work I WANT to be doing, is available over the net, and doesn’t take more time than I can spare from Weasel wrangling, greeting shoppers and writing award-winning plays.

So that’s me getting an education. Learning the lesson was much more unpleasant. Part of my job at the World’s Largest Home Improvement Retailer is to make sure the people slipping out through the In door aren’t doing so with power tools hidden under their hats. Almost all of them aren’t. But on Saturday a couple came through my door and they made me suspicious. Once they had been and gone, I compared notes with a manager and we discovered how they had contrived to steal a modest amount of stuff under our very noses. I was angry, with the thieves and with myself for not acting sooner on my suspicion.

Imagine my amazement yesterday afternoon when the same guy came back. Not only came back, but smiled at me and announced “I’m back again!” He obviously believed that his theft had gone unnoticed and he was back again. Obviously I’m not going to go into details of his method, but he set things up to pull the same stunt again. This time I was prepared and did one simple thing that proved he was stealing something. He went nuts, barged me and my fellow associate aside and legged it. We’re not allowed to attempt to restrain anyone, so I simply followed him in case he was getting into a car. No such luck.

So he wasn’t led away in chains, cursing my intervention, but I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon. Sadly, now I look at everyone who comes in with suspicion, and I have a knot in my stomach when anyone approaches the door with a full cart. It’s never been a joyous job, never been a laugh a minute, but I don’t like to think that this one greedy thief has soured it completely.

PS: The photo? Well, that was the last time I was in a proper full-time education course. My year at Portsmouth University doesn’t count because the course was rubbish.