April 23rd, 2015

The Red Tree

"Everything's so easy for Pauline..."

Out there, in the leafless world beyond my office window, it's 46˚F, with a windchill of 39˚F. On April 23. It's windy, 16mph from the west. It's mostly cloudy, mostly grey. And I have a headache.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,194 words on "Dancy Vs. the Pterosaur."

Both page views and comments to this LJ are at an all-time low. It's been a long, slow, steady decline, the traffic here. When you look at the numbers laid out on StatCounter, it's like seeing a mass-extinction event. If you're still reading this, you're the lucky little possum that survived the worldwide darkness, firestorms, and tsunamis of the Chixilub impact. Now, this really is no reflection on my popularity as an author. That's gone up considerably over the same period of time. It's a reflection of the death of blogging and the triumph of Twitter and "tl;dr" culture. Which is pretty damn depressing. An online journal is more than a sound bite, more than 140 characters. You have to stop and give it your attention. Preferably your full attention. And who wants to do that today? A 500-1,000 word blog entry? You can blow through hundreds of Tweets and Tumblr and Instagram whatchamafuckits in the space it would take to read that!

Daily, I question the wisdom of having started this thing up again after I shut it down in April 2014. I know there are people still reading, obviously. But it was created as a promotional tool, way back in November 2002. Yeah, when some of you were just children. It has long since ceased to be useful as anything of the sort.

So, I don't know. No, I'm not about to stop. But it's depressing, all my lucky little possums.

But then, what isn't?

Aunt Beast