2500: Traditional 500-Post Pondering

So, post 2,500. I was going to try and write something meaningful, but then I worked a 12-hour shift (voluntarily) and now I’m knackered and my feet are killing me, so my heart’s not quite in it. Still, onward we go.

Occasionally in recent months I’ve found myself wondering if I should keep this blog going, and/or if so, how long for. Why am I still doing it, who is it for and am I getting anything out of the experience?

On the whole, I think that yes, I do find it to be a valuable and helpful experience on the whole. It’s a means for me to express myself to people who know me in a way that I might not find particularly easy or practical to do so in person. It’s a means for me to talk about the things I love without having to worry about boring people in the same room as me — if you’re not interested in something I talk about for a post or two, simply don’t read it. And, of course, it’s a means to continue practicing the craft of writing, not that there’s a “right” way to do it. (Except for those people who insist on writing all their posts in lower-case letters. Those people are wrong.)

There are things on here that I’m glad I’ve talked about, and things I wish I’d never brought up. There are good times and bad times; there are things I’m happy about and things that make me infuriated.

More than anything, though, this blog is me. It’s a record of, frankly, what has ended up being a rather turbulent period in my life, and it’s been something I can focus on each day even if everything else around me might have been shit. It’s been a great outlet and a good means of broaching difficult topics as well as a place where I can happily vent my feelings, good and bad, on a daily basis.

So yes, I’m carrying on. Until when, I can’t say. But 2,500 daily posts in, it kind of seems like a shame to stop now, huh?

2212: The Stat Connection

“Go to your Stats page and check your top 3-5 posts. Why do you think they’ve been successful? Find the connection between them, and write about it.”

Daily Post, February 9, 2016

All right. Let’s have a look, then. Since we’re not that far into 2016 and WordPress doesn’t appear to have an “all time” function to search top posts, I’ll provide the top five posts (excluding the homepage, which makes up the majority of pageviews but doesn’t tell me much) for both 2016 so far and 2015. In other words, these are posts that people saw the title of (probably on social media or via a search engine) and directly clicked through to, rather than simply checking my front page each day.

Here’s 2016 so far:

And here’s 2015:

All right. So let’s get analysing.

Since I write about a wide variety of topics on this blog — regular readers will know that it’s my personal outlet for venting about whatever is on my mind on any given day rather than any attempt to provide a coherent editorial experience — it’s perhaps not surprising that not all of the entries in these two lists have something in common, but there are a few common themes along the way.

How to Do Stuff

Let’s look at 2016, first. Both How to Win at Omega Quintet and Helping your Squad in Xenoblade X were written in 2015 (indicated by them not having the orange bar next to them), yet have remained consistently popular since I wrote them. The reason for this is that they are instructional content: guides for video games. Instructions or guides are consistent traffic magnets, regardless of the subject matter of your site, because one of the most common things people search the Internet for is how to do something. Video games sites often use guide content for current popular games to attract visitors to their site and guarantee a baseline of ad revenue, then cross their fingers that readers will click through to other, less “baity” content. It doesn’t always work like that, of course, which is why we’ve seen a rise in deliberately provocative “clickbait” content across the board, not just in games journalism.

Anyway. The reason that my guide content for both Omega Quintet and Xenoblade X proved popular is that these were both games that had a specific audience, but neither of them were “big” enough for a commercial site to want to devote time and column inches to them. In other words, those searching for help when playing Omega Quintet and/or Xenoblade X would be out of luck when searching the big video games sites, but a cursory Google search would doubtless throw up my posts here fairly early on — indeed, at the time of writing, my post on Omega Quintet appears sixth in my (admittedly personalised) Google search results, embarrassingly with a typo in the preview text which I have now corrected:

It’s for this reason that a couple of my other previous posts have proven popular over time: my post on How to Play Pocket Academy, for example, detailing the baffling and frankly illogical mechanics of Kairosoft’s mobile-based school sim, rode high in my rankings for quite some time. I tell you: if you want traffic, write posts that tell people how to do stuff, and preferably how to do stuff that mainstream sites haven’t covered.

The Power of Sharing

My most popular posts are always several orders of magnitude more popular than their nearest rivals, with perhaps the most impressive example being 2015’s An Open Letter to Paul Glass, Slimming World Consultant, Upper Shirley. This post was pretty far from my more regular subject matter on popular media, particularly video games, and yet it was my most popular individual post for 2015. Why? Because it had the absolute shit shared out of it.

Paul Glass was the consultant at our local Slimming World group when I first joined, and his enthusiasm and belief in the programme was and is a big part of why I’ve stuck with it and had so much success over the course of the last year — I’ve lost six stone in a year, hopefully with more still to come off. When he revealed that he would be leaving the group to spend more time with his family in far-off climes, I felt it important to express my feelings about what he had helped me accomplish in such a way that I could be clearly understood. I’m shy and socially anxious by nature, and at the time I wrote this I’m not sure how confident I would have felt saying all those words in person, but writing them down on paper is no big deal: I can “fire and forget” that way.

Something told me that I should probably share this post a little wider than just my Twitter followers, though, and so I decided to make one of my extremely irregular visits to Facebook to post a link to the letter on the Facebook group for the Slimming World group in question. That one simple action caused that one single post to absolutely explode in popularity, as it was shared by group members, Paul himself, and subsequently by other people I’d never met involved with Slimming World in various capacities, either as group members or staff.

You never can quite tell what the next big viral sensation is going to be, but there is one thing that all my popular posts do tend to have in common:

The Passion of the Post

It is, I feel, no coincidence that my most widely shared, most popular posts are those in which I feel most passionate about the things that I am writing about. I am a person who, I feel, can express their passion for something pretty clearly through my writing. And indeed, due to the aforementioned shyness and social anxiety mentioned above, I find writing to be the easiest means through which I can express that passion to an audience that can — hopefully — appreciate what I’m saying, or at least respect it.

2015’s most popular posts were all about passion, from my letter to Paul to Perhaps We Should Stop Insulting Fans of Japanese Games. Four out of the five posts above were about video games — four out of the five posts were pretty much about the same thing, in fact, which was critics’ regular dismissive and unfair treatment of both Japanese game developers and the fans of the games they make — but these posts all resonated deeply both with myself and with the circle of friends I’ve cultivated on social media, most of whom share the same interests as me.

Consequently, much as my letter to Paul got shared far and wide, so too did The Joyless Wankers of the Games Press (actually written the year before in response to an absolutely atrocious review of Fairy Fencer F on my former stomping grounds of USgamer), Some Thoughts for Critics (a response to Jim Sterling’s dreadful and ill-informed review of Senran Kagura 2), Hi Games Journalism, It’s Time We Had Another Chat (a response to Mike Diver’s equally dreadful and ill-informed review of Senran Kagura 2, a game which is a ton of fun but which proved to be a whipping boy for self-described “progressive” types on the grounds of the female characters’ big jiggly breasts) and the aforementioned Perhaps We Should Stop Insulting Fans of Japanese Games (a response to an extraordinarily narrow-minded editorial on USgamer by my former editor Jeremy Parish, and almost certainly the reason he has me blocked on Twitter). I saw these posts get shared and reshared, not only on Twitter, but also on Facebook and Reddit, the latter of which I don’t really use myself.

The things I had written had clearly got the strength of my feelings across, and other people felt like they could relate to them in some way — either agreeing or disagreeing — and this caused them to explode in popularity, at least in terms of numbers. The same, too, can be said for 2016’s Why It Would Be A Mistake to Not Localise Valkyrie Drive Bhikkuni, an impassioned plea for the progressive loudmouths not to stop Senran Kagura creator Kenichiro Takaki’s new game making it over to Western shores.

Bovril?

I’ll be honest, I have no idea why a post from 2013 about beef-and-yeast-extract black sticky substance Bovril is my third most popular post this year so far, but oddly enough this post has been consistently popular: it finished 2015 in sixth place, just after my various rants at the games journalism industry and also ranked sixth in 2014, but only managed 19th place in its original year of publication.

It’s not even a particularly exciting post: it simply describes what Bovril is and how I feel about it. It doesn’t even appear on the front page of Google results for Bovril. But I guess it meant something to someone somewhere. Perhaps not many people write about Bovril on the Internet, and my post offered a safe space for Bovril fans to convene and share in silent contemplation of salty beef drinks. Or perhaps it’s just one of those things that can’t quite be explained.

So what can we learn from this?

There are a few things you can probably see my most popular posts have in common. To my eye, these things are:

A clear, conversational title that makes it clear what the post is about — i.e. a simple subject line rather than a “title” that tries to be clever or funny
Passion for the subject — clear emotion, either positive or negative, is infectious and relatable
Scope for sharing — be it a topic that a lot of people feel strongly about, or something that is written in such a way that presents a strong argument in favour of or against something
Complete honesty — even at the expense of a few “bridges” if necessary
Instructions on how to do stuff — particularly if nowhere else has published instructions on how to do that stuff

Not all of my most popular posts have all of the above elements — although I do make a specific effort to apply the “complete honesty” element to everything I write — but these are, by far, the most common factors that all of my most popular posts have between them.

I hope that’s proved as enlightening for you as it has for me: it’s certainly given me some food for thought with regard to what to write about going forward from here, so I’d say both as a writing exercise and an analytical investigation, this post has been a great success.

Thanks, Daily Post!

#oneaday Day 630: Over My Shoulder

I’ve been blogging since July of 2008. Actually, that’s not quite true — I’ve been blogging a lot longer than that, but had a couple of other websites prior to this one. To my knowledge, only one of them is still there, and that was a somewhat abortive effort. This site, then, represents one of the most consistent creative endeavours that I’ve ever undertaken.

For what, though? What is it achieving? I’m certainly not making any great effort to ponce around with anything like search engine optimisation and the limit of my attempts to “drive traffic” consist of auto-posting each entry to Facebook and Twitter as a link for people to click through to. And yet, here I am, day after day, writing something for anywhere between — most weeks — 20 and 100 people. 24 of you readers are subscribed by email, meaning you get a daily dose of nonsense posted direct to your inbox (and possibly don’t count against my views count, you bastards, unless you actually do, in which case you’re not bastards, and I don’t really care anyway) and I have no idea how many more might be subscribed via RSS.

As I’ve said on a few other occasions, though, the main reason I’m writing all this gobbledegook day after day is for myself. I’m not sure if I’ll be looking back on this content in a few years time and figuring out something profound about myself or not, but I certainly like having it all there — and knowing that there are 629 daily posts before this one (and a few more irregular ones prior to that) is quite satisfying.

I like reading back old things that I’ve written. I don’t keep all old pieces of writing that I do, but I have some knocking around that date back to my school days, which are a good few years ago now. It’s sometimes interesting to look back and read your work and consider what might have been going through your mind at the time — or what inspired you to write a particular work.

I think the oldest piece of writing I’ve still hung onto is the Woolworths notebook that my friend Edd and I took on holiday to Gran Canaria. It was 1992, and we were in Year 7. That holiday was memorable for all sorts of reasons — the cockroach attack in the middle of the night, the discovery of Mortal Kombat and X-Men in the local arcade, our first experiences snorkelling. And most of it is entertainingly chronicled in the dodgy handwriting of the 11-12 year old me.

The way you write changes over the years, even if you’re not a writer and if you don’t do it often. Old people using computers forget how to use capital letters and punctuation (except the exclamation mark, which they use with gay abandon) while some develop a clear sense of style and voice according to who they’re writing to. When you’re twelve, however, most of your writing is written in the same register, however many English lessons on formal and informal letters you might have had. My old notebook is a fine example of this, sharing details of stupid in-jokes that Edd and I had at the time, the context of which has been mostly lost to the mists of time save for the written record of the fact that we did indeed compose a short song called “I’m an egg-timer” together and that we found it inexplicably amusing to hum the theme tune from the Whiskas cat food advert while descending a water slide.

Don’t ask. I have no idea.

I wonder if in twenty years’ time — firstly, will this site still be around or will we all have switched to something like the OASIS platform in Ready Player One? — I’ll still be writing in the same manner. Perhaps I will — in some senses, even though I’m (painfully) aware that I’m thirty years old, in others I feel like I haven’t grown up a whole lot. There’s still a ton of things about the world that I don’t know or don’t understand, and a lot of people seem to have a firmer grasp on them than me — or, more likely, simply do a better job of hiding the fact that they’re overwhelmed by everything out there.

Arguably part of this feeling of “immaturity”, for want of a better word, is writing this every day. When I’m writing some nonsense here, I can just sort of “let go” and channel that twelve year old kid who felt the need to chronicle everything on a holiday with a friend. I’m under no obligations to write in a particular style or follow the AP Style Guide or whatever (though you’ll notice I do make an effort to spell and punctuate correctly, typos aside) so I can just sit back (well, forward, otherwise I can’t reach the keyboard) and type whatever is in my head onto the virtual page in front of me.

This is a nice feeling, and that’s why I do this day after day. I appreciate those of you who keep coming back to read my ramblings, I really do. But the act of writing, of self-expressions, of, in some cases, being able to write things that are difficult to talk about out loud — that’s why I do it. It makes me feel good, makes me feel like I have an outlet and am free to express myself however I see fit. And sure, anyone reading can and will judge me based on the things I write. And that’s fine, because after all, I’m posting all this for public consumption. But more than that, this is something for me. This is me. And if you’ve come along for the ride here and read the last six hundred and whatever posts, you probably know me pretty damn well by now.

If, however, you’re new, the archives are on the right hand side. I’ll see you in a few months.