I started this blog to be like the other cool writer wannabes. But I’ve been spying on checking out their blogs, and it’s clear I’m doing at least three things wrong:
- I’m squee-impaired. When someone writes the word ‘squee’, I want to tweet back, “Bless you.” (Sometimes, I take a surreptitious hit of hand sanitizer.)
- I don’t call people ‘beotches’. I’ve known many bitches (and many… er… male offspring of same), and none of them spell it with an ‘o’. Or three ‘o’s… Not to mention the fact that after my formative years on the south side of Chicago, self-preservation leaves me reluctant to apply the term to their faces, whether as perjorative or endearment.
- I don’t drop the f-bomb.
Okay, those who’ve driven with me on a motorway here in England know that I’m lying about at least one of the above points. (Make that two of the above…)
Here is the real reason I’m not going to make it as a blogger. I don’t have a cat. I can tell this is important because among the blog-stats from the geniuses at WordPress is a list of search terms that led people to my blog. An astonishing 25.5% of them were looking for cat pictures like the one here. Plus one confused searcher was looking for a persian dog. Clearly, the more kittens you have working for you, the more people will visit your blog. Of course, 62.5% of search engine traffic was from people looking for my reasons NOT to have kids. Given that I have four children, I’m either the best or the worst source to consult on that topic.
So in the interests of driving traffic to this blog, I offer the following all-purpose gif:
If you’re part of the teeming hordes of viewers this picture brings in, I hope you will take a moment to look at excerpts from my work in progress — Null City, written with Hannah Taub. We’d be especially grateful if you could let us know your comments, suggestions, or critique. Thanks!