Having a blog is an odd thing. It’s like doing a coffee house reading without the coffee. Or the house. Or the stage. Or the microphone. Or the faces.
Hmm. That’s a lot of ‘or’s. Guess I’d better re-think my analogy.
Got it! Having a blog is like being in the middle of an empty desert with a bullhorn.
Yep! That’s more the feeling.
Don’t get me wrong. My blog gets comments. Just enough to let me know that that old bullhorn is doing it’s job.
But not enough to let me know how well the old bullhorn is working.
Which leaves me with a plethora of questions. Like, who’s listening? What type of people drop by for a visit? What are their likes, and dislikes? Do we share common interests?
So I do the only thing I can. I check my stats.
You should check your stats. It can be a disappointing, yet fascinating, experience.
Disappointing because the stats really don’t give very much information, only how many visits the blog gets and what country they’re from.
But fascinating because, well, the blog gets visits from all over the world. All those potential friends!
It really sparks the imagination. Especially when a country jumps to the top of the list and stays there for months. I can’t help myself. I start to feel that there must be people in that country that I’m connecting with. People who could be my friends.
But the other day I checked my stats and was surprised to see a new country not only on the list, but with ten times more visits than I’d ever had in one day from ANY country. Even the United States.
Then in the days that followed, not a single visit.
What’s up, country-that-will-remain-unnamed, was it something I wrote?
Did it remind you of another blog you used to read that ended badly?
Does my blog have bad breath?
Country-that-will-remain-unnamed, I’ll admit that you flattered me with your attention. Commonsense flew out the window. I thought we had something. I thought you liked me–I mean my blog. I thought you liked my blog.
No comments. No visits. You dropped my blog like a hot potato.
So much for making a connection.
Back to the old bullhorn in the desert.