Likes and Follows and Blogging, Oh My!

To paraphrase Dorothy Parker:

I love writing, love having written, but getting read, well, that’s a little more complicated.

I started my first blog the same year that Facebook was born. Zuckerberg and associates went on to achieve fame and fortune, and I still work a 40-hour/week day job and make no money whatsoever from this part-time pastime called blogging.

But, I’m not bitter. Really. I’m not.

Seriously, Fish & Bicycles is the product of many precious stolen moments, painstakingly extracted from the crazy busyness of work, homeownership, husbanding, parenting, and other assorted pursuits and distractions. Consequently, I barely have enough time to hammer out the entries that I do post, and I could do so much more if only I had more time.

Of course, if it were as simple as that I wouldn’t be writing what you are reading right now. Instead, this funny thing happens when you publish your work out in public for all to see for so long: It just might happen that people might read what you’ve published — I know, crazy right? — some of those people might even like what you’ve published, and some might keep coming back for more.

And, however much you tell yourself that it doesn’t matter, that you adhere to the advice of a writing mentor of yours who said you should write as if no one will ever read it, it feels really, REALLY good when people ARE reading your writing and even better when they tell you that they liked what you wrote.

So, there were always comments to manage, but the vast majority of part-time, non-professional bloggers like me don’t get more comments than they can handle.

But now, thanks to Like and Follow buttons, readers are provided with a wider variety of ways to show their appreciation for your work, and bloggers are told in articles all over the web that the best way to build traffic early on is to engage with folks who take the time to read and appreciate your work, to respond to their comments, thank them for the Likes and Follows, and visit their blogs to reciprocate.

Well, if you’re a social creature like me, that all comes quite naturally. I enjoy the social networking element of blogging immensely, I love meeting new people and discovering great blogs, especially given that these great people and blogs are from all over the world!

And yet, remember that bit about stolen moments extracted from crazy busyness?

If Fish & Bicycles was my day job, if I was getting paid to blog all day, this would be a non-issue and I’d have plenty of time to write and engage with the blogosphere.

Sadly, finally arriving at the regrettable point of this long, rambling note, I’m having to make the painful decision to cut WAY back on my responses to Likes and Follows.

I hope to continue replying to comments left at Fish & Bicycles, and I hope to stop by the blogs that I follow from time to time, but I’m no longer going to be able to reciprocate every time someone Likes one of my posts or chooses to Follow Fish & Bicycles.

There, I said it.

Heavy sigh.

I hope you all will understand, and please know that I’m deeply honored and touched when anyone appreciates what I do here.

Fish & Bicycles: 2011 In Review

Every year, WordPress.com prepares an annual report, a summary of the year’s activity, for every blog they host.

Last year’s was fun and a real eye-opener, and this year’s arrived today.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 21,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 8 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report. (I get a particular thrill from the Where did they come from? map!)

Happy New Year, from Fish & Bicycles!

As the remaining seconds of 2011 tick away, I find myself reflecting on this blogging thing that I do.

Unlike last year, when we had a new decade to celebrate — even though, as I wrote, most people had incorrectly celebrated the year before — this year we’re ushering in just another mundane set of 12 months.

Sure, there’s all the Mayan calendar 2012 ridiculousness, but let’s face it, things really won’t get fun again until the year 2020, because it’s such a cool number, or 2112, because there’s a classic Rush album by that name.

Um…where was I?

Oh, yeah, reflecting on blogging!

2011 has been an exciting year, here at Fish & Bicycles. I feel like I’ve really hit my stride, like I’m in the flow, that the blog is serving it’s primary purpose of acting as an outlet for my creative expression. I look at the content I’ve accumulated since I started in October 2009 and I feel very proud of it.

Icing on the cake: my monthly page views have tripled since this time last year, and it’s more thrilling than I can say, knowing that folks from all over the world have stopped by.

Now, not all of my reflective thoughts about blogging are so positive. There are times, infrequent as they may be, when I question the value of doing this. There are times when I have nothing really burning to say, but I feel a sense of obligation to try to produce something. On my good days, I see this as purely good writing discipline, for many a writing teacher will tell you that writing something, regardless of the quality, every single day is essential to being a good writer, as it keeps the creative juices flowing. On my not so good days, I wonder whether or not I’m in need of an ego-trip check, that perhaps, rather than a commitment to a writing regimen, I might really be more concerned with how the blog looks, updated as often as possible, which, experts preach, is essential for attracting more regular readers.

I’m sure that a lot of creative types wrestle with this from time to time, especially those of us who do not do it for a living. Really, it’s that age-old question: Is it art if no one but you ever sees or hears it?

While I believe it most certainly is, I also believe that a lot of artists do what they do because they want to share the fruit of their labors with others, to entertain, to provoke thought and emotion, to contribute something born of the human spirit to the world.

I could probably go on an on with this subject, but that’s enough reflection for now. We’ll see how this next year goes.

In the meantime, thanks, as always, to everyone who stops by, however briefly, for taking the time to consider my humble contributions to the blogosphere.

Happy New Year!

Happy Holidays, From Fish & Bicycles!

Well, it’s that time of year again, when I’ll be heading over the river and through the woods, to grandparents’ houses for Christmas.

We’re halfway through Chanukah, had a great time lighting candles, playing dreidel, and eating latkes, but we’re an interfaith family, and now we get to load up all of our Jewish stuff to bring with us for the second half of the holiday, along with all of our Christmas gifts, and drive to Seattle for time with the goyishe relatives.

Typically, this means that I won’t be blogging much for the next few days, so things will be quiet here at Fish & Bicycles, probably until Monday.

While I’m indisposed, feel free to browse around Fish & Bicycles in any of the following ways:

  • Tags: In the sidebar, under Stuff About…, you can click on any of the Tags and see all the posts I’ve done that have at least something to do with those topics.
  • Recurring Series: At the top of the page, hover over the Recurring Series drop-down menu and select from options like Celebrating Eco-Progress, which applauds businesses adopting sustainable practices; Eyecatchers, a collection of photos, graphics, and videos that have, well, caught my eye; Video Fridays, my favorite video of the week pick; and more.
  • Archives: Towards the bottom of the sidebar, select a specific month to see everything I posted in that time period.

Cheers!

Tall Buildings and 9/11 Redux

Like many bloggers, I tend to write mostly off-the-cuff. As a result of that approach, I often post stuff that hasn’t been fully processed and analyzed, and occasionally a post lingers in my mind because I have doubts about assertions or conclusions or emotional reactions I’ve expressed.

However, I’m committed to this method, as I’ve come to believe that spontaneity is an essential part of the creative process, and self-censorship can be the death of spontaneity.

Besides, I can always follow up with an additional entry, to build on what I wrote initially, or I can just retract it altogether.

To illustrate, almost a year ago I wrote about my mixed feelings concerning the grand opening ceremony for Dubai’s Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. There were a few things that were unsettling to me about the event, but one thing had nothing to do with the structure itself: The fireworks display (see video embedded in my post).

I wrote at the time:

Am I crazy to think about 9/11 as I see explosions and smoke coming out of a very tall building?

Anyway, I posited something in that blog entry that I was actually uncomfortable with when I posted it, but I put it out there, only to have said lingering doubts nag at me for days and days, until the entry disappeared from the Home page as I moved on to other topics.

I wrote:

Despite my non-adversarial attitude towards Islam, the design of that fireworks display, to me, so uncannily evokes 9/11 that I can’t help wondering, watching that video, to what extent this building was built, at least partly, to exude an air of superiority, flaunting their achievement, as the smoke from the fireworks clears and there it is, still standing.

While I have come to reject the notion that evoking 9/11 was the intent of the promoters, I still don’t think I was wrong to think of 9/11 when I watched the video of the fireworks display.

I was raised in New Jersey, a short bus or train ride from New York City, I’d been to the top of the World Trade Center a number of times throughout my childhood, and one of the fondest memories I have is riding on the Staten Island Ferry as it approached lower Manhattan, the skyscrapers impossibly rising from that sliver of an island, most prominent of which were the Twin Towers, growing larger and larger the closer we sailed to the terminal.

The trauma of 9/11 manifested in a wide variety of ways, severity in the case of the families of the victims and the survivors, incredibly disturbing for New Yorkers, and deep, deep sadness for people like me, for whom the World Trade Center was an indelible icon.

Therefore, I can understand why some people reacted the way they did when they saw this architectural rendering of a proposed building in Seoul, South Korea (via Inhabitat):

I do want to believe the architects when they say that they had no intention of evoking 9/11 when they designed this building, AND I think they’ve done the right thing in apologizing for how the design was disturbing to some people.

However, it does strike me as somewhat alarming that anyone could NOT have thought about 9/11 when they came up with this design. How could they be so clueless as to not see the connection? Or, alternately, how could they be so utterly insensitive to have seen the connection and yet decide to move forward with it. The fact that it was a team of people, not just one architect, who worked on this and then green-lighted the release of the image makes it all the more difficult to accept.

But all that said, 9/11 didn’t effect everyone as much as it affected me. I never look at a skyscraper without thinking about it, and sadly I don’t think that will ever change.