I finally understand why nobody can moderate the internet: there’s about 15 billion trillion zillion websites that are utter crap. And that’s just the blogs.
I click on thousands of sites at work per month and you’d be amazed at how many are obviously just machines creating links and a random body of text and try to make it look like a person. Quite a lot, I can tell you. These are annoying, sure, but at least they’re easily recognizable.
For blogs, it’s usually the “recent posts” that give them away. Posts, for example, about sofa cleaners, erectile tablets and photography tips in the same domain. And the shitty comic sans text and hyperlinks left right and fucking dead centre. I actually almost dismissed a real blogger because they used shit fonts, like that is a sure way to get people to NOT read your stuff.
Okay so there’s the blatant machine-based blog pages. Then there’s dead-end blogs where the person’s last post was about two years ago. Like no “goodbye for now” post or anything like that, just gone. (Actually I understand that people die and that some of those people might be bloggers so that’s a bit harsh of me to say someone’s left their domain when really they might be arse-end in a ditch somewhere).
Then there are bloggers who don’t have anything to say. Oh-ho, man do I hate these. Okay, I guess I have silly posts like my recent Handbag Dust post (mainly an experiment for myself) but there are so many blogs out there that just talk about shit.
There’s this one blogger for instance that posted a blog about finding a bug in her kitchen. And she wrote about it. For 1,000 fucking words. As a writer, I believe that it is possible to write about the mundane in an interesting way (Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace anyone?). But a fucking bug? And writing about it in a way that makes your reader want to stick pins in their eyes?
I think it comes down to conviction. Have a little bit of frigging conviction when you write. I know that if I feel uninspired, whatever I write will be crap, so it comes across as that. So I don’t do it. Some people might not find anything I write about interesting, but if you at least try to write like you give a shit, at least one other person might give a shit too.
It’s not surprising this girl has 9 followers. Three of which are herself from other websites. No-one ‘likes’ her posts, no-one comments. It’s like, please, can you not just delete this blog and go jump of the end of a boring-as-batshit pier? Because that’s what you and others like you are, my dear. Boring as batshit. In fact, bat shit is more interesting than you. God, that’s when you know you’ve made it. When batshit is better than you.
It’s not necessarily that people like her write boring stuff, it’s that they post boring stuff and act like it’s the best fucking thing in the world. “Oh, look, here’s a funny conversation I had with my friend that no-one else will get because I’m too fucking KOOKY!”
In fact the most interesting posts she has are when her life is turning to shit, because I get to read about her vulnerabilities. That’s one of the reasons why people read blogs, and that’s why it’s exciting to blog, too. People being vulnerable or opening themselves up to strangers about stuff in their lives that no-one they know in real life knows about is interesting. Writing about how you found a bug on the kitchen floor and then squealed and did nothing is not interesting.
Sometimes it helps for people to relate to your writing, but actually the writing I sometimes prefer is people who write about things that are foreign to me. I prefer experimental writers to the usual, mundane writers because they are opening my mind up to possibilities and ideals that I hadn’t even begun to think of myself. When I open a book, I don’t just expect to lose myself in it, but I expect to come away from it having learned something new.
And when I don’t want to learn something, I read shite like Twilight (actually, to be honest I’d need someone to pay me a lot of money and/or chocolate to read that. And only if it’s audio descriptive. And read by Kermit the Frog or Betty White).