Blogging is like life itself.
You get from it what you put into it. You can’t go it alone, success requires contact with, and some degree of acceptance and approval from, the outside world. Perserevence and maintainance are mandatory.
Every day we are presented with lessons. Noticing and allowing them to chart the course going forward are part of the Success Equation.
Do the math. Nobody gets to reinvent the rules.
That said, most of us mess it up – both our life and our blog – on a regular basis.
Thankfully, unless your transgression takes you out of the game altogether, the medium and the masses are forgiving, or at least they are possessed of a short memory.
We try, we stumble (the fall on your face kind), we move on.
Here then, after fourteen months online with my blog, are a few tries and stumbles of my own, and what became of them.
I allowed my URL to expire.
Not on purpose, of course. Out of ignorance.
I first registered with Yahoo, then transferred the whole enchilada to Hostgator. Neither bother to notify me (insert finger-pointing here) when the 1-year contract expired.
Ignorance is no excuse. It was me, not them, who suffered a mild cardiac event when I woke up one morning in Hawaii and my blog was completely off the grid.
I now have a 5-year URL contract. I just hope somebody gives me a heads up when it nears expiration, since I’ll be older than dirt by then and will undoubtedly forget what “URL” even means.
Come to think of it, I don’t know now. Only what it feels like to lose one.
I got into an online street fight.
I took a stance on an issue that rubbed somebody the wrong way. She called me a prick in the ensuing exchange on the Comment thread.
Hey, she started it.
I hit back – the never-hit-a-girl mantra of our youth is pure horseshit when a whacked-out woman attacks you online – though I never called her anything metaphorically referencing human genitalia.
Pricks are everywhere. Even online. I’m just glad I’m not one of them. Not then, not now.
Came close, though. Never again.
I wrote a post about typos.
It was right here on Problogger, as a matter of fact. Thing is, it had two typos in it.
And then, when several dozen readers gleefully pointed this out, I actually offered up another typo in a blushing apology.
I’ve learned never to promise a typo-free post again. Only to try for one every time.
I dissed another blogger.
There are a couple bloggers out there who, because of outrageous, totally misplaced egos, really piss me off.
I shant name names.
I tried to once, but my wife saved me from myself.
That’s the lesson. Keep the wife close at all times.
I wanted to quit.
Don’t we all from time to time?
Resist the urge. That’s the lesson. Don’t.
One word in front of the other. Just like walking through the valley of the shadow of rejection, one foot at a time.
Just try to keep that foot out of your mouth.
I stopped interacting.
Don’t we all from time to time?
Resist the urge. That’s the lesson. Don’t.
Redundancy intended, by the way.
I posted jokes.
Seriously. My site isn’t remotely funny, I write about effective storytelling standards and processes, and how to get it published.
If you haven’t tried that, it’s the antithesis of humor. It’s a nightmare.
Maybe that’s why the jokes worked. Every tortured writer needs a laugh now and then.
I got personal.
Just like now. Depending on the venue, your humanity is as important as your narrative dexterity.
Just pick your times. Nobody comes to your site for you.
And always chose self-deprecation over self-promotion. Just sayin’.
I posted a prayer.
Call me crazy. In fact, that prayer is up on my site as I write this. It’ll be in second or third position by the time you read this.
The prayer was answered, too. At least in terms of reader comments.
I find it fascinating how posts imbued with vulnerability, risk-taking, humor and commiseration are the most effective in terms of reader response.
People come for the meat and potatoes. But they comment for love.
The Sum of These Lessons
Perhaps the biggest lesson of it all is how each of these parts meld together into one big pile of throbbing learning curve.
It’s called blogging. No matter how or why you do it, it has something to teach us.
Larry Brooks writes at Storyfix.com, an instructional site for novelists, screenwriters, novices and burned out hacks, and those who live with them. His book, “Story Engineering: Understanding the Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing,” comes out in February 2011 from Writers Digest Books.
