Searchwarp, Bridget Jones, Marc D’Arcy, Google, Paris Hilton, Robert de Niro, Oprah and I

Very few people leave comments on my blog and/or use the rating thing.    They look nice, those red stars, especially the 5 stars.    Confession?    I’m the only one doing it at the moment.   Oh God, am becoming self-congratulatory like Paris Hilton.   Hope Google doesn’t punish me.   Sometimes they do.   Have to remember Google isn’t God.

I digress.   Traffic to my blog has gone from 12 to 750 a month.    Whoopee.   Altogether, 2,600 page views of 300 blogs, in 11 months.   But on Searchwarp, in 5 months I’ve had over 22,000 page views of 65 articles and probably 600 very bloody nice comments and generally good ratings.

Hmmm.   Well I’m not giving my blog up, because it’s mine sweet mine and I love a challenge.   That’s not totally true, I like it when it’s conquered and down on the ground v. dead and I stand with one foot on its belly, my sword raised triumphantly in the air.

Always wanted to be noticed, discovered and applauded but was so damn uncool.   Plus I hadn’t done anything that was discoverable.   You see the difficulty.   Now, with Searchwarp?   Heaven, I’m in heaven.   I might even be making it into the cool group.   My experience is a bit like Mark D’Arcy telling Bridget Jones he loved her just the way she was.

Notwithstanding which, this morning I woke up to the thought Gaaahhhh!   What if I never break through?   Time is marching, what if there isn’t enough time?    Panic.   Dooom.

Then I remembered.   Hang on, I’ve got a completed script and I got it to Robert de Niro.   Granted it could be in his toilet, but perhaps I could send him a reminder to take a dump more often.    Oh that’s disgusting.    Plus, I’ve got a visible blog which Oprah or any publisher or film producer could see any day.   And all sorts of other writing projects.   It’s fine, I’ve got that all covered.

It’s the flipping singing.  that’s.  not.  flowing.   She said with gritted teeth.

‘”Well, it’s probably not meant to be, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and just focus on your writing.”
“No, I don’t want to, I want both” she said petulantly, sulking, thoroughly bothered, a bit flushed – probably menopausally.
“Well, you’ll never get anywhere really with either one unless you focus.”
“Mind your own business.   I’m a woman, I can multi-task.”

Probably the problem is just gritted teeth.    Need to ungrit them.

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