The Blog Police
Today’s post is brought to you via the medium of the cat. This is in a rebellious attack against a diatribe I read recently from The Blog Police (TM), about how to boost my blog stats. I clicked on it by accident, honest guv.
I’m so over checking stats, chasing followers, and whoring myself on social media. Note to the husband: this is metaphorical. I may be spending my days dishonourably as a writer, but I’m not spending them on my back. Apart from the occasional cheeky nap. Alone.
I will continue to advertise my posts so that those who enjoy them (do you exist?) know they are out there. I flipping love you people, by the way.
What I don’t love is the, ‘Your blog is only successful if it increases by at least a billion followers a day’ message. Chasing followers is exhausting and gets in the way of what I want to be doing; writing. I know a writer needs readers, I know I need to make potential readers aware that I’m here, I know I must play the game, but there are limits.
Cat memes = thousands of hits?
The ‘sage’ advice from The Blogging Police (TM) went a little something like this, ‘Add a predominant picture of a cat in your post. Cats are a continuing internet phenomenon and you are guaranteed additional hits from a kitty picture alone.’
So let’s be clear; add a cat picture, even if your post has nothing whatsoever to do with cats, in order to go viral. Then I got to thinking. Let’s meme and metaphor the shit out of our furry feline friends. Not literally. They crap enough in people’s gardens as it is.
‘Cattering’ behaviour provides the perfect allusion to my writery world. You want cats, The Blog Police (TM)? I’ll give you flipping cats…
Cats know that procrastination is essential to creativity. They are easily distracted and bought by ‘the shiny things’
As am I, and any other honest writer. We pretend to be on social media for the purposes of networking and self-promotion. It can start that way. However, we always land up trapped in commenting to a friend about another ‘friend’, who is looking a little tubby nowadays, and what was she thinking putting her holiday bikini photos on Facebook. The claws are often out.
Or we are setting the world of Twitter alight with our musings on the latest episode of ‘Game of Thrones’, and pissing off all the friends who haven’t seen it yet.
Social media should be just that; social. Promote but be a human, sociable being.
Writers who use social media to incessantly bombard us with promos for their novels are (a) boring cockwombles who don’t know how to talk to real people, and (b) making me look bad in terms of writery published output.
Give me shiny distraction things any day. Oooh! My phone just pinged… Where was I? Who are you? How did I get here?
Cats understand that food aids productivity
It has been brought to my attention that I write about chocolate, cheese and coffee a lot. This is because they are my motifs. I actually only added that because it sounded literary, and a bit tossbagish, if I’m honest. The simple truth is that food aids the writer’s productivity. These just so happen to be my weapons of choice.
Regular snacks mean that we avoid a ‘hangry’ situation. Hunger anger is not pretty. Ask the husband.
The husband makes our dinner. His choice, before the independent women start whacking me with Beyonce CDs. If I have eaten little through writery forgetting, or have the major munchies, he is like Owen, the dinosaur whisperer in Jurassic World.
The husband enters our home slowly, holding out his hands to indicate he is benign, speaks calmly, assesses rage levels, and then darts into the kitchen. Dinner is rapidly rustled up to pacify his T-Rex of a missus.
Cats appreciate that legal drugs are a writer’s muse
Whoever invented caffeine is a god. Now I understand that I should be worshipping no other gods than the Main Man, but come on. There has to be an extra deity out there that not only created this legal high, but decided it could go into coffee, chocolate and Diet Pepsi.
I worship at the altar of the caffeine god and thank the Big Fella for expanding the Holy Trinity into a quartet. Am I going to Hell for this? If so, at least I can boil the water for a triple shot espresso.
Cats are independent and feisty little buggers
So am I. Nowt wrong with that. It gets ‘the things’ done. It helps you to fight through the most messiest of situations. It encourages you to continue writing when you know that every one and his wife, dog (or cat), is at it as well.
Independence can also be isolating and breed arrogance if you’re not careful.
I have been learning from the cat; be autonomous when it suits, usually when writing and culling characters. Then accept help when you need it; mainly when in need of food (see above) or getting out of tight situations (keep reading).
Cats can also be incredibly
Every writer wants to be loved. Now don’t lie to me, fellow scribes, and beg to differ. We are pouring out our heart and imagination on to paper. This renders us vulnerable when we share that with others.
Readers, editors and critiquers: we want you to read our work and give the appropriate amount of belly rubs, hopefully accompanied by praise. Failing that, constructive criticism is acceptable.
If you neglect the gentle stroking (does this read as pervy as it sounds in my head?) we will bite. Or cry. Probably both.
Cats sleep like bosses
Bed was the most marvellous invention ever thought up in the whole wide world. I have no time for the ‘sleep when I’m dead’ brigade. Firstly, you’re quoting a Bon Jovi song and deserve a slap for that alone.
Secondly, you are going to have to sleep at some point in your life, you idiot. Otherwise you will be dead and you’ll miss the after party, through, er, sleeping.
Sleep is my friend. I am kind to my friends. Sleep helps get the writing done the next day.
Cats can get themselves into a variety of awkward and uncomfortable situations
Welcome to my freaking life… Awkwardness and uncomfortable situations dominant most of my writing days.
The ideas don’t come: I am suffocated by a non-functioning brain.
I try to be too clever for my own good with a plot: I spend the rest of the day untangling myself from the mess.
I write about someone I know in far too much realistic, unfavourable detail: I edit the living daylights out of it for fear of destroying the relationship with my
best friend, husband, brother, mum, the person I wrote so honestly about.
Cats do it their way, despite the haters…
I’m not stupid, contrary to what my posts may indicate. I know there are people who think I’m an idiot for starting up this writery business. Idiot? No. Weirdo? Always.
I know that I will probably never make my fame or fortune from it. The husband has been informed never to mess up at work…
I know that writers are often scorned and our endeavours aren’t considered as actual ‘work’. Really? Go and have a go if you think you’re imaginative, skilled, dedicated and strange enough…
All l I can offer in response to the negativity is a big, fat, sarcastic rendition of ‘My Way’, screeched in the form of a scrapping cat, with a message to the haters that this writer has serious ‘cattitude’ *face palms at adding the world’s worst cat pun as a lasting impression that will convince the haters she is truly a shite writer*.
Hey there, The Blog Police (TM), how do you like my shameless cattering? I’m off for a cat nap. My work here is done.