I’m a blogger. Well, actually I’m a writer who blogs. It’s how I survive, how I take these kernels of thoughts and ideas and nurture them into something more. Sometimes they’re profound, sometimes they’re silly. I’ve bared my naked soul to the world.
It began simply as a way to cope with a break-up, and eventual divorce, from my wife. That marriage had been broken for a while, and I suspect it had never been whole to begin with. All the same, as much as I was glad to be rid of her, there’s some part lurking in everyone that misses that presence, no matter how toxic it may be. You become used to that proximity. Also, my ego had trouble accepting that she left for another man.
I worked through my pain, and then the pain of another failed relationship. I was broken and I typed my pain in a vain cry for help. No one heeded it. Sure I got the occasional sympathetic comment, how it would get better, that they were praying for me, but I needed more. The only blessing is that my writing prevented me from bottling everything up. It was my outlet. That blog was my saving grace.
That was over four years ago, and I still maintain it, though now its focused on my stalled writing career. I post short stories and book reviews. I talk about ideas and my fears, my hopes and my dreams. It’s still an oasis in the middle of a barren life, and still I have relatively few followers. I don’t get many hits
This blog is different. So far today, I’ve received more views than I had for the entire month of September of my other blog. People read me here, and people have shared my posts in forums that bring me traffic. My friends listen to me patiently as I gush about my stats. They listen sympathetically as I grouse that no one cares about that other blog, about that other, male me.
It’s a strange dichotomy that dwells within me, two distinct halves that vie for dominance, though I know neither would survive without the other. It irks me that I can’t find an audience there where here I have found a voice. Perhaps it’s not so loud as others may have, but I appreciate every receptive ear, every click on my stats. I appreciate every kind word I have received. I’m nothing if not grateful.
But male me would like to find that voice, too. He would be overjoyed to gain a wider audience. I won’t share a link, this isn’t what this is about. Instead, it’s a fascination with how one person with two separate identities can have widely different successes. Stefani and male me are one and the same, but we might as well be strangers. In a way, I suppose we are.
Stefani Within 
I too love the stats and especially the fact that it’s a bar chart. Would be really interested to know what other people get because I’m pretty damn nosey!
Anna x
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Oh Anna… You and me both! Curiosity killed the cat… But then cats have 9 lives don’t they? 😀
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So they say! Hope you have a lovely weekend when it comes x
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Funny… My male Twitter account has more followers (it is much older than Daniella’s) but gets very few views by comparison to Daniella’s and Daniella’s account is catching up on followers FAST. Interesting… Sure we are exotic, but it seems we are fundamentally more interesting too…
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My male Twitter has a lot more followers too, but it’s mostly other writers wanting me to follow back. My Stefani acount only has 44.
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If you were to travel once per month and experience life as Stefani, it may do wonders for your soul and for your sense of self. During the time in which you are in male mode, do not think of it in that manner. Perhaps, just think of it as another facet of your personality. As people, we present what is called a dramaturgical approach to personality..that is, we are different with each person that we interact with. I have a personal question that I am curious about..May I ask.. When did you first consciously identify as a female? I think it is all very interesting. It must be difficult not to feel as if you can be your authentic self. Life is short…be yourself. People who truly care about you will continue to do so.
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I have noticed that when you blog daily it’s better. Now that I do not blog daily like I did, my stats have dwindled. But the changes in my blog have helped some. However, this blog is mostly a place to vent feelings and be open. I don’t usually worry about stats.
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I’m obsessed with stats. It’s just part of what makes me tick. Who’s reading? Who’s commenting? Is anyone sharing? Why doesn’t anyone love me? After a while, I log off before I drive myself crazy.
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Driving myself crazy is exactly why I don’t really care. No since in stressing over a number. If you like me, yay, if not yay.
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Watching blog stats is horribly addictive, especially when you start posting. You check them several times a day and get discouraged that no one seems to be reading. Then suddenly they start to take off and you’re checking them just as frequently.
But really what I’m finding important is not how many page hits I get, but the conversations and friendships that have started because of it. Those are hugely precious and invaluable in keeping me (relatively) sane and grounded.
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I’m so an addict when it comes to my stats. Every notch on the counter, every new comment, every new like, I’m just like, “Oh yeah!”
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