I've got writer's block tonight. Nothing is inspiring me, not even the glass of white wine I've been sipping for the last hour.
I'm checking out some of my favourite blogs, skimming the news, scanning Facebook, trying to find some divine inspiration that will catapult me into blogging bliss.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip.
I took a picture of my cat sitting at the bar, keeping Smilin' Vic company as he nursed a weekend beer. I thought that might prove at least half-decent fodder for this forlorn blogging space.
Nope. No inspiration, no injection of literary grace, no ensuing mad typing fury.
Actually, quite the opposite, tonight I've pretty much given up on any hope of ever writing about something meaningful or changing the world one day with the
philosophy behind my
Some, not all, of my disenchantment comes from this
odd occasion I check my viewing stats.
Squarespace doesn't give much background information on site traffic, but it does provide some generalities such as total number of views per day, search query (e.g. 'why does my mom dress like a gypsy) and state/country in which the search originated.
And these tell me that about half the hits on my blog:
- are on THIS LINK about gas at high altitudes,
- originate from Colorado, and
- are the result of a search query containing the word 'flatulence'.
And though I keep on trying to convince myself I've got a great story to tell, a story that is funny, moving, inspiring, maybe even empowering, my stats show me that the only tome I'll ever successfully market will have to bear a title like 'The Great Book of Fart'.
And while I have a lot to say on the subject that could surely complement other best-sellers such as ''The Fart Book'' and ''The Gas We Pass'' (look them up ...), I'm not sure the few minutes of creativity my brain eeks out a week are enough to do this highly explosive subject matter justice.
So this is this week's score: Me - 0 / Farts - 52.