A passionate blogger is a good blogger. If you don’t care about your blog, why would anyone else?
Many bloggers care a great deal about their blog. They invest a lot of themselves into it, writing about personal things and being completely honest and open. I’ve shared many things which are very important to me about my health, my children, my marriage and my opinions.
It’s therefore only natural to be protective about the work you do. I’m quite proud of my writing and the feedback the site has generated. I also feel that I could continually rewrite a blog post, tweaking this and that forever, but at some point it just has to be good enough for me to publish. Then I have to press the button and let it fly.
I’m open to feedback and have learned loads from readers and other bloggers. I also read other bloggers work for inspiration and to spot things I don’t like too! I was reading an article on another bloggers site when I spotted a banner in the sidebar. It said Parent Blogger Club.
Parent Blogger Club
I followed the link and discovered a club where you can opt-in to be part of their weekly chart. I registered and linked up my site.
Initially, the Parent Blogger Club, part of the Rise network, used Klout scores to figure out it’s weekly chart. More recently, they switched to put a bigger emphasis on the amount of blog posts you published. Every Monday, the previous week’s chart was calculated and put online.
They also sent out a weekly email, citing the previous week’s top bloggers, biggest rises, biggest fallers, newest bloggers etc. I have to admit that, in a show of vanity, I made some effort to climb the chart.
By the end of 2016, I was one of two dad bloggers who were regularly in the top 50 or so. The highest point I got to was number 31. I was quite chuffed by this.
Last Monday I was keen to see the chart. I had published six posts which were well received, so I was anxious to see if I could crack the top 30. The top 100 list came up for week commencing 9th January 2016. I wasn’t in it, which surprised me.
I then received the weekly email from the Parent Blogger Club. It acknowledged at the top that there had been some technical problems in collecting the amount of blog posts people had made. Fair enough, I thought. It can happen. But, despite knowing their numbers were wrong, they then still sent out their chart.
And there, in the Top Losers of the Week section, was Looking for the Postman. Their email said that I’d posted zero blog posts that week. My blood boiled.
Like I said, I understand that technical glitches happen. What I don’t understand is why you would still then issue out an email about bloggers which was completely wrong? Why tell anyone who has subscribed that a certain group of bloggers had dropped in your estimation because your system had messed up?
Yeah, I took this to heart. I was pretty embarrassed that everyone on that list had been emailed details of my blog and were told that I had plummeted down the chart when the reality was that no such thing had happened.
To be honest, I went in a right, big huff.
Today – Revelation
In the last seven days, I did eight blog posts. Despite this, the Parents Blogger Club recorded zero. For a club which bases itself on stats, that is a huge credibility problem.
Then I had the wake-up call. What the hell was I thinking? Why was I worried about a number on a chart? It was no measure of quality. It was no measure of how much people liked (or didn’t like) my writing. Hell, it wasn’t even an accurate representation of what you’d posted (which is what it claimed to be).
It was worthless.
Don’t get me wrong. I am honestly delighted to have been listed as one of the Top 10 Dad Bloggers with Tots 100, and I’m with some tremendous other dad bloggers. That chart, however, appears to be based on merit.
I’d got caught up in a blogger’s vanity project, for which I feel like a bit of an idiot. I know that other bloggers have quit charts for the same reason. The upside is that the misdirected energy I spent on concerning myself with this chart can now be directed in a more positive fashion. Go me.