You took me by surprise again this morning. As always, when I awakened, I checked my Fitbit to see how my heart did overnight. Then I checked WordPress to see how my readers were doing.
And there you were. Another thousand views. A quiet jolt to the chart. Numbers climbing when I wasn’t looking.
You’ve been dancing higher and higher since October, when I passed 15,000 and figured I’d reached my high-water mark. I even wrote a piece of thanks back then, thinking I’d said all there was to say. But now here we are—December 11th—and this little corner of the internet has gathered 25,053 views.
I’ve done nothing different. I have no flashy headlines. I have no trending hashtags. I just keep following the same rhythm: writing essays born from memory in a home filled with love. I just keep foolin’ around with words and ideas.
So why now, after all these years?
That question hangs gently in the room with me. It’s not demanding an answer. It’s simply inviting a reflection. Maybe something shifted in the writing. Maybe it’s more expansive. Maybe it’s more lived-in. Maybe it’s a voice carrying a steadier warmth now. Maybe it’s grief that’s softened into grace. Maybe it’s love that arrived not with fanfare, but with a quiet hand stretched out in invitation. Maybe it’s all of those things. Maybe. And add to all those maybes one more. Maybe it’s readers sharing with readers.
Gary, of course, doesn’t ask to be written about. But his presence is here, between the lines, in the patience of a paragraph, the steadiness of tone, the way I’ve learned to let silence do some of the talking.
Ruby, on the other hand, insists on being written about, whether she’s nosing me away from my smartphone or curling up in solidarity as I revise for the twenty-fifth time. She is, as always, the keeper of the tempo, the mistress of the move.
So this isn’t an open letter to public stats. It’s a letter to something deeper. It’s a letter to what it means to keep writing when no one’s watching, and then to wake up and find that someone was.
My essays aren’t meant to dazzle. And I know: they don’t. They’re just small acts of holding up the light, one weekly reflection at a time. The fact that they’re being read, now more than ever, tells me something I didn’t expect: quiet honesty still finds its way.
Thank you, Sudden Surge, for reminding me that patience has its own reward, that consistency is a kind of faith, and that somewhere out there, readers are still pausing to linger with a slow essay from the mountain.
I don’t know what this upturn means, or where it leads. But I do know I’ll keep showing up with my smartphone in hand and love at my side.
“I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought.”
—G. K. Chesterton (1874–1936,). influential English essayist whose sharp wit, moral clarity, and human warmth made him one of the most quoted thinkers of his time.
My blog surprised me again this week. Back in October, I crossed 15,000 views and thought I’d reached my high-water mark for the year. Now, barely a month later, I’m staring at an even bigger number:
20,062 views—with a full month still to go.
That’s more than last year, more than the year before, and more than I ever expected from this little mountain corner of mine. Apparently, these memoir stories I write from a quiet oasis in the wilderness of Virginia keep finding their way into far-off places—and into the hands and hearts of readers I’ll never meet yet somehow feel connected to all the same.
ReasonstoBeGrateful
But 20,062 isn’t really a number. Not to me.
It’s the sum of moments someone chose to spend with my words. It’s a cup of coffee that went cold on a stranger’s table because they lingered. It’s a pause in someone’s busy day. It’s a late-night scroll where someone said, without ever typing the words, “I’ll stay a little longer.” Twenty thousand tiny gestures of yes in a world full of noise.
And the deeper truth behind that math—the part I keep circling back to—is that this milestone isn’t about reach or visibility or bragging rights. It’s about what it represents in the long arc of a life. I’ve lived enough years, and carried enough stories, to know that readers don’t show up unless something in the writing rings true. They don’t return unless the voice feels familiar, honest, worth sitting with. They certainly don’t keep climbing toward 20,000 unless the stories hold something real.
So this isn’t a celebration of views.
It’s a quiet acknowledgment that I’ve kept faith with my own voice—through reinvention, through loss, through love found unexpectedly, through the strange and luminous chapters that have made up this year. And somehow, astonishingly, readers have kept faith with me.
And yes, threaded into the margins—without ever mentioning Gary by name—is the quiet steadiness that has shaped this year in ways I’m still learning to articulate. Love doesn’t call attention to itself; it simply widens the edges of your life. It softens how you move through the world, deepens the tone of your voice, and reminds you that being read is wonderful, but being seen—fully, gently, without hurry—is something else entirely.
This year, more than any before, has reminded me that showing up with a story is an act of hope. And reading one is, too. Somewhere in that exchange—when the writing meets the reading—something human and steady is created. Something that matters.
So here I sit, on a chilly Thanksgiving week, taking in this milestone not as a trumpet blast but as a simple moment of gratitude. Gratitude for the readers who knock on my digital door day after day. Gratitude for the chance to tell the stories I’ve carried for decades. Gratitude for the ways this year has widened, softened, and surprised me—and for the quiet presence that keeps teaching me that the best stories are the ones we live, not just write.
I didn’t expect this climb to 20,062. But I’m grateful for every step, every reader, every quiet yes.
And with a month still to go, I’ll just say it now—
“To toot one’s own horn is to sound the music of one’s journey. And today, my friends, the notes are jubilant, triumphant, unmistakably heartfelt, and wrapped in a little holiday cheer!”
–TheWiredResearcher (b. 1947; self-effacing educator, essayist, Green Mountain scholar, and Humourist—patiently awaiting long-overdue New York Times recognition.)
Beloved readers–of all ages and from all corners of the globe–I’m going to toot my horn proudly today!
At 11:22am today, my blog hit 15,000 views in 2024! Is that a special Christmas gift or what!
Let me pause and let that sink in: FIFTEEN. THOUSAND. VIEWS.
Can you hear the confetti cannons? Feel the glitter raining down? That’s the energy I’m channeling today. Because let’s be honest—this doesn’t happen by accident. It’s the result of showing up week after week, pouring my heart and soul into every post, and, most importantly, connecting with YOU, my remarkable readers.
If you’re like me, you know that milestones mean more when you see where they began. Let’s rewind:
● 2021: 3,940 views. A small but solid readership.
● 2022: 6,655 views. Growth doubling and momentum building.
● 2024: 15,000 views… and the year isn’t over yet!
From 3,940 to 15,000 in just a few years—this isn’t just growth. It’s a story of connection. It’s a story of us.
What Does 15,000 Look Like?
It looks like 140 countries—stretching from the United States’ plains and mountain ranges to Afghanistan’s rugged peaks, India’s vibrant deserts and Himalayas, and France’s vineyards, all the way to Zimbabwe’s sweeping savannahs. It looks like comments from faithful followers. It looks like early risers sipping coffee as they dive into my Monday morning musings. It looks like connections that transcend borders, reminding us all of the power of words.
The Greatest Hits (According to You!)
As we bask in this milestone, let’s revisit the top-ten posts that you’ve loved the most this year:
● “From Stars to Soil.” A nostalgic return to childhood gardening and the realization that it gave me a profound appreciation for the interconnectedness and sacredness of all life.
● “My Mother’s Dress.” A story exploring how a dress that my mother made for herself included her hopes, her visions, her aspirations, and her dreams for her family and her world.
● “Sister’s Hands.” A celebration of decades of selfless love, compassion, and service.
● “My Taxing Review.” A humorous exploration of opening personal archives as a way to create a rich personal narrative.
● “Not Alone.” A triumphant tale of my own Coming Out.
A Milestone Worth Celebrating
Fifteen thousand views aren’t just numbers—they’re stories, connections, and a shared love of learning. Each one represents someone who paused in their day to engage with my words. Together, we’ve created a space where ideas flourish, where history meets memoir, where research mingles with creativity, and where we never stop asking the big questions.
The Future Is Bright
What’s next? More posts that inspire, challenge, and delight. More glimpses into the magic of the everyday. More stories that remind us why we love the written word.
To everyone who has ever clicked, read, commented, or shared—THANKYOU. You are the symphony that makes this blog sing. And as the music swells, I can’t help but toot my own horn just a little louder.
Because today, it’s not just my achievement—it’s ours.
Here’s to 15,000 views—and the countless stories and connections that brought us here.
“A writer only begins a book. A reader finishes it.”
—Samuel Johnson (1709-1784; English writer, poet, essayist, moralist, literary critic, biographer, editor, and lexicographer; best known for his A Dictionary of the English Language, 1755.)
I just checked my blog’s mid-year statistics, and I am thrilled beyond measure. Together, we did it! 6,164 of you have been reading my blog posts this year.
For me, that’s incredibly awesome.
I couldn’t have done it without you, my loyal readers. You have fueled my passion for writing, and it’s your engagement that motivates me to share not only stories but also moments of laughter, reflection, and sometimes even tears.
Reflecting on the Journey
When I shifted the focus of my blog from research to memoir, I had no idea that it would grow into what it is now. Each week, I pour my heart into writing, hoping to connect with you through my words. This journey has been one of personal growth and deep connection, overcoming initial uncertainties to find a community of readers who connect with what I write.
Highlights of the Year So Far
Let me share with you the posts that have been the most popular during the last six months:
In case you’re wondering about future posts, let me share with you the tentative titles of drafts that I’m working on:
● The AI Times They Are A-Changin’
● The Sweet Taste of Defeat
● Literary Crosswalks at 76
● What I Would Say to My 18-Year-Old Self
● Fanning the Flame
● Turning Out the Lights: Reflections on Endurance and Hope
● Bigger than Ourselves
● Age of No Credit
● In Praise of Gratitude
● I Don’t Have Much to Give but What I Have I Give
● I Made It All Up
Looking at the Countries You Represent
And you, my 6,164 readers? What about you? You represent 145 countries from all around the world, showcasing an incredible diversity of cultures and perspectives. From Afghanistan to Zambia, including Bahrain, Cambodia, Denmark, Ecuador, Gabon, Hong Kong SAR China, Iceland, Japan, Kazakhstan, Latvia, Macao SAR China, Namibia, Oman, Pakistan, Qatar, Romania, Saudi Arabia, Taiwan, U.S. Virgin Islands, United States, United Kingdom, and Venezuela.
A Special Thank You
I want to give a special shoutout to each and every one of you, whoever you are, and wherever you are.
“The real problem is not whether machines think but whether men do.”
–B. F. Skinner (American psychologist, behaviorist, author, and social philosopher, best known for his work in exploring how behavior is influenced by rewards and punishments.)
Of course not. You weren’t duped the way that I was. Well, let me remind you of what happened to me. As I was enjoying my Cappuccino in Starbucks, a former student walked in, and I invited them to join me. Hot damn! I had somebody who might be interested in talking about recent AI advances. The student feigned ignorance because work had kept them too busy to fool around much online. I decided to turn the encounter into a learning moment, so I opened up ChatGPT and handed my Smartphone to them:
“Here. In the dialogue box, just type in what you want to know.”
Talk about flying thumbs! The next thing I knew, my student had given ChatGPT extensive guidelines for an essay to appear in The New Yorker. What a hoot! Then, they held on to my Smartphone and proceeded to read the essay aloud to me, just as I often did when they were in my classes. I realized that I had been cornered and tricked, just like the narrator in Mark Twain’s “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.”
After being so surprisingly duped, I managed to chuckle a little on my way back up my mountain. At the same time, I was tempted to just forget all about the Starbucks encounter, and I suppose I would have done just that if not for comments from several of my faithful followers.
One of them, in a rare stroke of six-word brilliance, elevated me to the level of “The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” by dubbing me “The Celebrated Professor of Shenandoah County.” (Thank you, Jenni. Move over, Mark Twain. There’s a new kid on the riverboat.)
Another follower pumped me up even more, and I quote verbatim: “Your storytelling is second to none.” (Thank you, Dave. Like I said, move over Mark.)
Both of those comments actually made me grateful that I had been duped in Starbucks.
The third comment spurred me on even more because my good friend and faithful follower Frank thought that he would have the last laugh by duping me once more. Can you imagine a friend doing that? Let me tell you what he did. He asked ChatGPT to write a response to my post, and then what did he do? What did Frank do? He posted it, all innocent-like as a comment under his own name! His own name! He’s got some nerve, if I must say so, but I’ve known Frank and his pranks for decades, so his spoof did not take me by surprise, nor did I fall for his pluck!
After all, I am a master at foolin’ around with words–in and out of bed–and as soon as I read his comments, I knew immediately that he was not the author.
Someone just screeched:
How did you know?
Here’s the short answer. I’m familiar with Frank’s writing style. The comment that he posted was not in the same style as comments that he’s made down through the years about my blog posts. It had nuances that just didn’t sound like Frank.
With Frank’s permission, I’m giving his entire comment below in bold. I’ll intersperse my observations in italics.
§ § §
“Dear Brent,
No way! There’s just no way that Frank would start his comments about my blog with a salutation. Nope. No way. Imposter.
“I thoroughly enjoyed reading your latest blog post, ‘The AI Novelist: or, How I Was Duped at Starbucks.’ Your narrative was both engaging and thought-provoking, capturing the essence of an academic’s ever-evolving relationship with technology. The way you seamlessly blended your personal experience with insightful commentary on AI’s role in creative writing was masterful.”
This paragraph shows a lack of understanding, and I know fully well that Frank understood my post. However, when he uploaded it to ChatGPT, ChatGPT made the mistake of identifying me with the fictional professor in the essay that my student had AI generate. Frank is too savvy to make such a mistake. Nope. No way. Imposter.
“Your encounter at Starbucks not only highlighted the cleverness of your former student but also underscored a significant theme: the intersection of traditional craftsmanship and modern technology. As someone who has been exploring the potentials of AI in various domains, I found your skepticism and eventual amusement towards AI-generated content particularly relatable. It’s fascinating to witness how AI, like ChatGPT, can generate coherent and even humorous narratives, yet still lack the human touch that makes storytelling deeply personal and impactful.”
Frank knows fully well that I have never been skeptical of AI. I have embraced it from the get-go. Once again, ChatGPT made the mistake of identifying me with the fictional professor in the essay that my student had AI generate. Nope. No way. Imposter.
“Your reflections on the creative process were poignant. While AI can certainly aid in generating content, the true art of writing lies in the human ability to weave emotions, experiences, and unique perspectives into a narrative. This reminded me of a quote by Isaac Asimov: “I do not fear computers. I fear the lack of them.” Your post beautifully illustrates that while AI can enhance our capabilities, it is our human creativity and critical thinking that ultimately define our work.”
Frank often includes quotes in his comments, but they’re usually song lyrics. Asimov? Not hardly. Nope. No way. Imposter.
“Thank you for sharing this delightful and insightful story. It left me pondering the future of writing and the balance between embracing technological advancements and preserving the essence of human creativity. I look forward to reading more of your posts and perhaps even discussing these topics over a cup of coffee someday.”
Frank and I meet regularly for lunch, and we usually have oysters on the halfshell and a Gin and Tonic. Coffee? Never! Nope. No way. Imposter.
“Warm regards,”
Geez! Frank has never, ever used “Warm regards” as a closing for any of his comments. Never. Nope. No way. Imposter.
§ § §
Aside from the above observations, one more thing made me aware that Frank was not the author: the length. Frank is a man of few words. He simply would not write such lengthy comments. Nope. No way. Imposter.
I was on to what Frank had done as soon as I read his comments. In my response, I added something that I thought would let him know that I knew:
“Coffee? You bet! Gin and Tonic with Oysters on the halfshell would be great, too! 😃”
One more thing, just for the record. I asked ChatGPT to take Frank’s AI comments and to rewrite them in a way more consistent with the Frank I know.
Here’s what ChatGPT provided:
Hey Brent,
I got a kick out of your latest blog post, “The AI Novelist: or, How I Was Duped at Starbucks.” Your storytelling was as sharp and engaging as always, blending your personal experience with a clever commentary on AI’s role in creative writing. You really captured the essence of an academic’s evolving relationship with technology.
The Starbucks encounter was a hoot, highlighting your student’s cleverness and the broader theme of blending traditional craftsmanship with modern tech. I’ve been delving into AI myself, and it was fun to see your take on how these tools can generate content that’s coherent and even amusing, though they still miss that personal touch that makes storytelling special.
Thanks for sharing such a delightful and thought-provoking story. It got me thinking about the future of writing and how we can balance embracing tech advancements while keeping the heart of human creativity. Looking forward to more of your posts, and maybe we can chat about this over lunch soon.
Catch you later,
Frank
Yep. That’s a lot closer to the Frank I know, but it’s still far too long. Unlike me, Frank knows that he’s not being paid by the word!
But, hey! Listen up! Guilt got the better of Frank. He called me one evening to confess! So, there you have it, and you heard it first right here.
Frankly, here’s the beautiful part of this long, drawn-out Twainesque post: humanity triumphed twice. First, Frank’s writing style has nuances that AI can’t mirror. Yet. Second, Frank’s conscience wouldn’t let him rest until the truth surfaced. AI can’t rise to that level. Yet.
Hopefully, this playful saga will remind us of the authenticity and complexity that define our interactions, whether through pranks or profound reflections. It’s in these moments that we find the essence of human connection and the enduring joy of shared stories and shared learning experiences..
“The joy of publishing is in sharing your stories with the world and knowing that they’ll live on long after you’re gone.”
–Maya Angelou (1928-2014; a renowned American author, poet, and Civil Rights activist whose works explore themes of identity, race, and resilience.)
DearReaders, gather ’round!
The moment we’re all eagerly waiting for is just around the corner. That’s right—my new book, More Wit and Wisdom: Another Year of Foolin’ Around in Bed–is getting closer and closer to its grand debut in late April, and boy, oh boy, do I have some juicy updates to share with you!
I’m thrilled to announce that I’ve personally PDFed every single one of the 380 interior pages, ensuring that each word, each sentence, shines as bright as a star in my mountaintop night sky. Proofing? Poof! Completed!
Whoever you are and wherever you are, your unwavering support means the world to me. MoreWitandWisdom: AnotherYearofFoolin’ AroundinBed isn’t just ink on paper. It’s a journey shared across 88 countries with 7,320 readers from the Shenandoah Valley to Okinawa.
But wait, wait! Don’t go! There’s one more thing. Feast your eyes upon the cover art for this new upcoming literary escapade. Just imagine it gracing your bookshelf, waiting to be cracked open and devoured, page by page. It will be available in hardback and paperback from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and, hopefully, your own hometown bookstore. (Drumming up anticipation yet?)
Grand Publication Debut of a Soon-to-Be American Classic Expected by the End of April 2024. (Coverartbyacclaimedillustrator, Mike Caplanis.)
“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.”
–Joan Didion (1934-2021; renowned American Essayist and novelist whose distinctive writing style and introspective approach earned her a lasting place in contemporary literature).
Maintaining friendships can be a delicate dance, and I’ve learned that silence is golden when it comes to my own writing. My friends–especially those who are writers–know that I abide by Robert Frost’s sage counsel:
“Talking is a hydrant in the yard and writing is a faucet upstairs in the house. Opening the first takes the pressure off the second ” (Letter to Sydney Cox, 3January 1937; quoted in Robert Frost and Sidney Cox: Forty Years of Friendship. By William Richard Evans. 1981).
Rarely, then, do I talk with friends about what I’m writing in my weekly blog posts. Talking about it diminishes my focus and my belief. Oh, to be certain, I may tease by divulging a topic or a working title. I love teasing. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again right now by telling you the working titles of some future posts:
● “What My Father Saw.”
● “Packin’ Up. Gettin’ Ready to Go.”
● “My Right to Know.”
● “Somewhere Called Home.”
● “What If Artificial Intelligence (AI) Makes Us Even Better than We Are?”
● “Grappling with Unknowns.”
● “The Cake Stops Here.”
● “When Did Tomorrow Begin?”
See there. I didn’t mind sharing those titles at all. Like I said, I’m a tease.
Truth be told, though, that’s all that I can share in advance because I’m clueless as to how those tentative titles will play out. I never know the end of a post until it leads me to its ending.
Clearly, I am not one of those writers–of whom there are many–who align themselves with Edgar Allan Poe. I’m thinking now about his focus on “unity of effect” and that a writer must know the intended effect from the beginning:
[…] in almost all classes of composition, the unity of effect or impression is a point of the greatest importance. […] If his very initial sentence tend not to the outbringing of this effect, then he has failed in his first step. In the whole composition there should be no word written, of which the tendency, direct or indirect, is not to the one pre-established design (Poe’s review of Hawthorne’s Twice-Told Tales, Graham’s Magazine, May 1842).
A few years later, he reiterated that point:
Nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its dénouement before anything be attempted with the pen. It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents, and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention (“The Philosophy of Composition,” Graham’s American Monthly Magazine, April 1846).
Poe’s way of writing is not my way of writing. Mine is just the opposite. Mine is the Frostian way:
Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. A poem may be worked over once it is in being, but may not be worried into being. Its most precious quality will remain its having run itself and carried away the poet with it (“The Figure a Poem Makes,” Atlantic Monthly, June 1939).
I am not trying to compare my writing to Frost or to Poe. Yet, as a writer, I have every right to align my methods with someone. I choose Frost for alignment, and I choose Frost for ally.
Like Frost, I am unwilling to talk about the content of what I am writing: opening the hydrant [talking] lessens the pressure on the upstairs faucet [writing]. At the same time, I am more than willing to talk about my writing methods: melting like a piece of ice on a hot stove, carrying me away with it.
Actually, I have talked about my writing process extensively in several blog posts. I’m tempted to suggest that you browse my posts and find them for yourself. But that would be mean spirited. So let me recap the main points here.
1. I write my posts in bed–every day, seven days a week–starting at 8:00 pm and continuing until I decide to stop, usually around 9:30 pm or so. Sometimes, I ignore my body’s call for rest, and I write until 11:00 pm. I don’t think that I’ve ever written past 11:30 pm. (However, I do recall writing until 12:30 am once, just to prove to a friend that I could stay up that late.)
2. I write my blog posts exclusively on my smartphone. Yes. On my smartphone. I hold it in my left hand (as I am doing now), and I touch type my text, letter by letter, with the index finger of my right hand (as I am doing now). I know: it’s slow. I know: it’s tedious. But guess what? It works.
3. I write my blog posts while sipping on a Bunnahabhain Scotch, neat.
4. I have a large number of drafts in progress at any given time: everything that I experience is copy. Right now, for example, I have 29 drafts in various stages of development.
5. Whenever I have an idea and start a draft, I develop it enough so that I can leap back into the idea whenever I return to it, even if it’s weeks or months after the idea leapt into my head.
6. Usually, one draft among all the others calls to me and demands my attention. I listen. I focus on it for seven nights, hanging on tight and never letting go.
7. On Sunday of each week–the day before publishing a post–I read it out loud by telephone to my oldest sister, Audrey. Reading it aloud gives me the opportunity to find any remaining mistakes. (Inevitably, I still miss a few.) More importantly, however, it gives me the opportunity to hear the rhythm, and if I have an off-key passage, my ear speaks to me. Sometimes, I pick up on a rhythm, and I decide to play it more fully in one final revision before going to bed. But here’s the important thing: it’s the hearing aloud–what Frost would call the “sound of sense–that allows me to know my degree of accomplishment.
Those are the main steps that I follow in writing my posts.
Recently, however, I noticed a recurring practice that I’ve been unintentionally following. Let me share it with you.
As I open a draft, I revisit the beginning instead of scrolling down to where I left off the night before. This practice offers a fresh perspective on my words and ideas.
I circle back to the beginning, I start from there, and the Frostian melt starts anew.
As I circle back, I take my time. I savor every word. I savor every nuance. I savor all the possibilities, including the white space between words where so many meanings live–and hide. And, as I circle back, I change whatever it is that calls to be changed.
To be sure, circling back flies in the face of the process that I and other English professors are hell-bent on teaching our students. Generally, we teach a straightforward, linear process without much room for deviation, except for an occasional reminder that writing can be recursive, especially when we need to do additional research to strengthen content. The process that we teach goes something like this:
First. Prewriting (Topic, Audience, Brainstorming, Research, Thesis, and Outlining).
Second.Drafting (Creating an initial version).
Third.Revising (Reconsidering content and context).
Fourth. Editing (Looking at grammar and mechanics).
Fifth.Proofreading (Taking a final look to discover mistakes, including formatting).
Undoubtedly, the 5-step method works, especially for beginning writers who often have no method.
It works for seasoned writers, too, but as we gain more and more writing experience, we follow that method subconsciously. For example, even though I write my posts in bed, I’m well aware that whatever I’m working on is simmering on my writer’s back burner throughout the day and throughout the night as I sleep. My ideas and insights come unexpectedly and without invitation.
For me, then, as a writer–especially a writer of Creative Nonfiction Essays like my blog posts–I’m tapping into the tried and tested steps of the writing process, but I’m really unaware that I’m doing so.
Yet, I am exceedingly aware of my circling back, and I find that keen awareness fascinating. It’s a conscious choice that I make every night when I open my WordPress draft to pick up where I left off. The starting point is always same: I circle back to the beginning. Most nights, I spend half of my writing time revisiting, rethinking, and modifying what I’ve written already.
I’m not suggesting that the “circling back” part of my writing strategy is revolutionary or unique. Perhaps lots of writers circle back in like manner.
What I am suggesting, however, is this: Circling back becomes a dance of words, a waltz with sentences that have already found their footing. It’s a writer’s serenade to their own creation, a harmonious echo of ideas that resonates and refines. Circling back is an invitation to linger in the labyrinth of language, to savor the richness of thinking, and to let the journey unfold in its own enchanting way. In the quiet act of returning to the starting point, I find my path illuminated by the wisdom of Frost and by the freedom of my narrative.
“Take my word for it. I never—absolutely never–intended to fool around in bed, certainly not every day, seven days a week, for an entire year.“
from “An Invitation to Join the Author In Bed” (5-12).
QUICK QUESTION:
What does it take to write a book?
QUICK ANSWER:
● 6,625 readers.
● 59 countries.
● 1 year.
● 1 bed.
● 1 writer.
EXPANDED ANSWER:
That’s how many readers I’ve had since my blog went weekly on December 28, 2021. That’s how many countries my readers represent. That’s how long I spent writing the blog posts. That’s the bed where I wrote them. And I’m the writer. No foolin’.
NOW, 57 of those essays, reflecting the best of the best, have been published in a book that is exquisite from cover to cover and every page of the 346 pages in between. It’s available on Amazon or Barnes & Noble, or you can order it from your favorite local bookstore!
TAKE A LOOK AT THE BRILLIANT COVER!
Surely you recognize ME! I’m smackdab in the middle of my bed writing a blog post about foolin’ around with some well-known writers. Mark Twain and Truman Capote are on the floor at the foot of the bed, blowing smoke rings at one another. Imagine! They’ve got some nerve! Acclaimed artist/illustrator Mike Caplanis gets credit for the caricature based on one of the book’s essays, “Foolin’ Around in Bed with Famous (and Not-So-Famous) Writers” (249-53).
WHAT’S THE BOOK ALL ABOUT? See for yourself.
“Fresh and refreshing through and through.” I love it! Other ADVANCE PRAISES grace the dust jacket of the hardcover book.
“A MUST READ” impresses me so much that I just repeated it and made it all caps and all bold! Dayumn! I like it so much that I want to shout it again: “A MUST READ.” (Thank you, Cheryl Thompson-Stacy!)
IN BED: MY YEAR OF FOOLIN’ AROUND is available in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle. I recommend the hardcover. It costs a little more, but it feels so much better than the paperback. What can I say other than there’s something extraordinarily extraordinary about a book that has its own dust jacket!
The publication of this book is an historic and timely solution for every gift-giving occasion that might be coming your way for the rest of the year, if not for the rest of your life. And let me add: may your life be long, healthy, and prosperous and may you keep right on buying copy after copy of IN BED.It’s the perfect gift. Right here. Right now. You do not need to look any further. And while you’re buying multiple copies for gift-giving, remember that IN BED is also the perfect gift for all of your friends … and enemies.
Thank you, DEAR READERS, for all of your support. I have no idea how you found your way into my life, but knowing that you are out there reading my posts strengthens me and uplifts me whenever I need to be strengthened and uplifted.
Time’s a wastin’. ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Or you can or order it from your favorite local bookstore!
“You live life looking forward, you understand life looking backward.”
Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855; Danish Philosopher, theologican, and cultural critic who had a major impact on existentialism.)
DEAR READERS,
As we enter the last day of 2022, I can’t let the year slip away without seizing the opportunity to thank you from the bottom of my heart!
Writing my weekly posts has anchored me during a year when I needed to be anchored. Knowing that you were out there reading my posts has strengthened me and uplifted me during a year when I needed to be strengthened and uplifted.
Looking back, I am surprised by the results! You might be, too. Let me share.
You,MY DEAR READERS, come from 59 COUNTRIES all around the world. I am in awe.
Australia
Austria
Bangladesh
Belize
Bhutan
Bosnia & Herzegovina
Brazil
Bulgaria
Canada
China
Czech Republic
Denmark
Ecuador
Egypt
France
Germany
Greece
Guatemala
Hong Kong SAR China
Hungary
India
Indonesia
Ireland
Italy
Japan
Kenya
Lithuania
Luxembourg
Malaysia
Mexico
Morocco
Nepal
Netherlands
Nigeria
Norway
Pakistan
Philippines
Poland
Portugal
Qatar
Romania
Russia
Saudi Arabia
Serbia
Singapore
Slovenia
South Africa
South Korea
Spain
Sri Lanka
Swaziland
Sweden
Switzerland
Turkey
Turkmenistan
Ukraine
United Kingdom
United States
Vietnam
Wouldn’t it be grand if we could reach out,join hands, and celebrate worldwide unity and inclusion, advocated so powerfully in Bob Marley’s “One Love”:
One love, one heart
Let’s get together and feel all right.
Maybe—just maybe—that’s exactly what we’re doing together in our own small way–week by week; post by post–right here in this blog.
I have no idea how you found your way into my life in 2022, but as we welcome 2023, I hope that you will continue to stand by me as we read our way together throughout the New Year!
It was characterized as “destined for fame … for greatness … for glory … the most historic and historical blog post ever published.”
It received rave reviews:
“Hilarious!”
“Hysterical. I would have laughed harder if I hadn’t been so horrified at your undertaking.”
“This is one of your most entertaining, funniest posts, and I thank you for … sharing it with the world.”
And it was LIKED by a comedian and a college president–two entirely different people, with two entirely different occupations, although the college president knows that humor is a close ally to successful and dynamic leadership.
All right. In the interest of partial disclosure and full but muddy transparency, I’m the one who characterized my post as “destined for fame … for greatness … for glory … the most historic and historical blog post ever published.”
And it was just one faithful follower who called it hilarious.
And it was just one faithful follower who called it hysterical.
And it was just one faithful follower who said that it was my most entertaining and funniest post.
But I believe in the power of one. If it’s good enough for a bank, I suppose it’s good enough for me, especially cents that bank does not have one cent of my money.
The good thing, however, is that those three rave reviews came from three entirely different followers with three entirely different occupations.
But enough of my noncents. I will, post mortem, return to my serious side instanter.
A stand-up comedian really did LIKE that post. Thank you! Please: feel free to sit down. (And, just as an aside to the stand-up comedian: I’m giving up my 25-year teaching gig at the end of this coming fall season. Do you need a jokester–I mean a writer? You know. Just hinting.)
And a college president really did LIKE that post. Thank you! Please: feel free to preside. (And just as an aside to the college president: I’m giving up my 25-year teaching gig–I mean professorship–at the end of this coming fall season–I mean semester. Do you need a Visiting Professor? A Visiting Scholar. Both? I’m good at wearing two hats at the same time as long as they don’t mess up my hair. You know. Just hinting.)
And again, just as an aside to the comedian and to the prez–who must be reading this post, right? I mean, you just don’t LIKE ’em and then leave ’em, do you?–it’s not like I’m desperate or anything, because, hey, I’ve got this blog, and after today’s unviral post, I’ll have talent scouts unlined up my ungraveled, rutted country road all the way to my no-parking space in the uncleared forest, assuming, of course, the scouts have four-wheel drive. Good talent these days is not easy to get to.
And let me not forget to mention what one other faithful follower advised me to do: “Perhaps you shouldn’t discard the legal pad and #2 pencil. … To help your nightly challenges of writing in this manner, I can offer you … a backlit pen.”
Well, as you know from many previous posts, I listen to my followers. So I immediately ordered myself two backlit pens from Amazon. You can get anything these days from Amazon, yesterday. Someone told me day before yesterday that I could even get a husband from Amazon, as soon as tomorrow or three days before. Dayum! Imagine that. I checked immediately. Unfortunately, Amazonian husbands are backordered. Unfortunately, too, they are not backlit.
My pens, on the other hand, were not back ordered, and they are backlit. They arrived just when I started writing this post, so what you see here was written in bed at night on a yellow legal pad that isn’t legal, using a pen that is legally lit.
Wow! Using this pen to write in bed in the dark is amazing. I am transfixed if not transformed. If I had known about these backlit pens decades ago before they had never been invented, by now I would have written the Great American Novel that has never been written. Or not. I’ll be dealing with that topic in a future post.
But I can’t deal with any of that right now. Right now, I am so enamored of this little backlit pen that all I can think about are little light quotes. Most are from songs, so I’m humming–can you hear me? Let me give you the links (below, in unalphabetical order) in case you want to hum along or sing along. It’s a FREE perk for being a FREEloader–I mean follower! Get someone else to follow, and I’ll let you hum along or sing along forever, for FREE.
Well, good grief. Why on earth did Euterpe muse me up like that? Your guess is as good as mine.
So let me hie myself back to the business at hand–sharing with you my ten guaranteed tips to increase blog traffic, top-rated and 100% unproven. Is that a deal or what? But before I do, don’t you just love that word: hie. I do. I love verbs and verbiage. (But I shudder to think about conjugating hie.) Anyway, I love that word. I’m not sure why. Maybe I saw it somewhere once, probably in a romance novel that I never read. Clearly, then, I have no idea who was doing what to whom in the novel that I did not read. I don’t think that anyone in the novel uttered the word either. But I happened to think of it just now, and I thought that it would be an awful lot of fun for me to use it right here. Now I feel funfilled.
Well, gracious me. Now I have to hie myself back once more. I guess all this is going down because my muse likes the fact that my pen is lit. That’s right: my pen.
As I was saying, the initial accolades calling my post historic and historical and the initial reviews hailing it as hysterical and hilarious and entertaining and funny got me all pumped up and gave me great expectations that my viewer stats would jump off the charts.
I had such high hopes, especially since the views on the day that I published the post were 555% higher than the day before. Talk about being pumped. I was beyond pumped. I had such heightened expectations that I set my alarm clock to awaken me hourly throughout the night for the sole purpose of watching my stats skyrocket.
Sadly, nothing skyrocketed. Nothing. Not one thing. Except my blood pressure and my stress from waking up every hour to check on my stats. My blog stats, mind you. I don’t need to check my personal stats. My Fitbit does that for me without even asking. And let me tell you: my personal stats dropped big time, especially my sleep score and my readiness to exercise score.
They were so low that I vowed that I would never do such a wired stunt again. I doubled my vow–Never, Never–when I charted my blog stats over the course of the next few days. It goes without saying that you can’t increase your blog traffic unless you chart it. Right?
So that’s precisely what I did on a flip chart–using royal blue and royal purple magic markers–to capture how the traffic plummeted. Those lines went so low that they fell all the way down to the floor where I continued to chart them all the way across the room.
When I finished the chart, I taped the unfloored part of it to my office wall–I write my blog in bed; I chart it in my office–and since then I have been waiting ever so patiently for my blog traffic to increase. It should. Right? I just charted it, and as I said in the preceding paragraph–or somewhere–you can’t increase your blog traffic if you don’t chart it.
And if you don’t believe me, you surely believe Kevin Costner. Who doesn’t? I know that I sure do, so much so that emblazoned on my chest–not too unlike Hester’s scarlet letter A–is the famous line from his Field of Dreams: “If you chart it, they will come.”
Now, listen up. Without further adieu–you wish, but not yet!–I am proud to share the ten hollow tips that lured you here, just like a moth lured to a flame. Yep. Ten tips. Guaranteed to increase your blog traffic. Top rated. 100% unproven. Trust me. They are unreal doozies.
Tip #1. AERIAL ADVERTISING. I cannot guarantee that this would work for you, but I am fairly uncertain that it would work for me because my mind is always up in the air. Why not skywrite my blog URL up there, too, maybe all up and down the California coastline where folks are more unwired than they are on the East Coast.
Tip #2. BILLBOARDS.Again, this might not give you more blog traffic at all. But, after I float down from my aerial habitation and walk once more upon terra unfirma, I am fairly certain that billboard advertising will be worth the cost. I plan to keep it short and simple, the same way that I keep my weekly blog posts short and simple.
I’m thinking something along the lines of:
Feeling WIRED???
Me, too. I’m here to help! Check out: thewiredresearcher.com
FREE Lifeline Subscription
Tip #3. DOLLAR BILL PROMOS. This tip would probably work for everybody, but only the bold and courageous should try it. Actually, it’s been around for years. I’ll bet you’ve seen one: a dollar bill with a Biblical reference written on it? Maybe even a phone number–call me? What I’m thinking is simple: Write your blog URL on the edge of a dollar bill. A dollar bill changes hands about 110 times a year. Wow! Write your blog URL on the edge of lots and lots of dollar bills and see how your blog traffic increases. I wonder, though, whether your increased blog traffic will be following you directly to jail. If I am not mistaken, writing on money is considered defacement underTitle 18, Section 333 of the United States Code. Blogger beware!
Tip #4. BUSINESS CARDS. These can’t be just any business cards. They need to be all glamour and glitz and gimmick. Maybe something like: Limited time only.FREE Access to a blog destined to be featured in the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, the defunct Saturday Evening Post, True Grit, and the 1931 first edition of The Joy of Cooking. But it won’t be enough to just have those cards printed. You’ll need to find someone to hand them out. In my case, my Linden (VA) and Front Royal (VA) correspondent–Yes. No s. She’s one and the same person–has been given the right of refusal to pass them out at all the unlarge stores in our unmetropolitan area as well as at the five churches located at each corner of a four-cornered crossroads in one of our unknown villages near us both.
Tip #5. FOOD TRUCK. This one seems perfect for me since I like to bake. You might get a rise out of it as well. I’m thinking about renting a food truck for a few weeks and customizing it, using temporary paint. A pale tan, maybe, about the color of lightly browned, crusty bread. With a slight stretch of anyone’s doughy imagination, the food truck might look like a loaf of bread. And for those who don’t have a doughy imagination to stretch, I plan to paint on one side of the truck, Oh, No! Sourdough. And on the other side, Baking Up My Past. On both sides, of course, I’ll paint my blog’s URL. I’ll offer up my full range of sourdough baked goods–regular sourdough bread, multigrain sourdough bread, as well as parmesan and black pepper sourdough bread, along with doughnuts, scones, biscuits, and dinner rolls. I’ll also offer up my full range of cakes including, but not limited to, my Chocolate Weary Willie Cake and my Chocolate Prune Cake. But here’s where the sweet part comes in. On both sides of the truck, FREE will be prominently lettered. Yep! Anyone who stops, gets one of my goodies FREE, with absolutely no wires attached–absolutely none, not one–other than signing up as one of my blog followers right then and right there on the spot while I watch. If this works, I promise to keep the FREE in subscription. (“Say whaaat? Are you lit?” Nope. See Tip #1.)
Tip #6. CHAIN EMAIL. Chain emails go all the way back to ye olden days of 1990. They waned but then returned with a boring resurgence during the pandemic. Their predecessor, of course, was the famed, infamous, and ancient artifact known as the litterae. Chain letters go all the way back to the 1930s when people included a dime in their chain letters. Later, they included recipes. And one of my Virtually (Anywhere) but nonetheless trustworthy correspondents tells me that chain emails these days often focus on sourdough starters and that she is certain that she unraveled the original Egyptian sourdough starter recipe cryptically hieroglyphed in the soon-to-be-famous post Oh, No! Sourdough. Well, to be honest and to be as transparent as the windowpane test that dough must pass, I’m not sure how a chain email could be used to promote blog traffic. I’m told, though, that chain emails are “Unstoppable.” If you figure it out, come back to my blog and send me a reply. Ka-stats, ka-stats, ka-stats!
Tip #7. CHALK WALK. I like this one a lot. It’s so cheap that it’s nearly FREE. Plus, it brings out the kid in me. Chalk my blog’s URL on sidewalks, using glow-in-the-dark chalk. It would bring an unsensational light unto an unliterary world. (I’m just kidding.)
Tip #8. CUSTOM BUMPER STICKERS. I am probably the only one alive who remembers this. But maybe not, so I will ask. Do you remember the streaking craze that struck the nation in the 1970s? I’m reminiscing about one super special, balmy spring evening in 1975. I had a hard time keeping up with the others–1,000 or so, all of us students–streaking our their stuff across the USC campus. It’s a wonder that I didn’t get trampled or worse. The best part came a few days later. It was hilarious to see genteel Southern ladies and gentlemen in their 70s and 80s driving around Columbia, totally unaware that a “I’m a Streak Freak” sticker had been proudly stuck on their rear …
… bumpers.
I’ve often wondered how they got there. (I probably still have one of those stickers somewhere in my loft.) Mind you: I’m not suggesting a streaking revival, but bumper stickers promoting a wired blog would certainly stop some traffic. (Hopefully, not the traffic headed to your blog.)
Tip #9. PENCILS PACKAGED WITH YELLOW LEGAL PADS. This is another one that would be perfect for me. I could go to all the bookstores at the colleges and universities where I don’t teach and hand out #2 pencils embossed with my blog’s URL packaged with a yellow legal pad, referencing my Take Four | Living with A Writer: Modern Applications of Ancient Writing Artifacts, destined to go down in the annals of history as the most historic and historical blog post ever published, all because it was written in bed on a yellow legal pad using a #2 pencil.
Tip #10. DO NOT SEARCH FOR GUARANTEED WAYS TO INCREASE BLOG TRAFFIC. This is the most important tip of all. That’s why I saved it for last. Articles claiming to have ten guaranteed, top-rated but 100% unproven tips for increasing blog traffic are nothing more than bogus attempts to increase traffic to their own blog. Such hyped-up, sensational articles seem to be the unnormal norm these days. Don’t look for them, and, for God’s sake, if you do look for them, don’t tell anyone that you looked. Such articles lack the unmuddy transparency needed to be included in Wikipedia.
Please, though, finish reading this post before you wisely decide to follow my advice.
And–please, please–if you enjoyed this post, send the link to seven of your unfriends and ask them to do the same, starting with you at the top.
And–pretty, pretty please–if you enjoyed this post, share it via WordPress, Twitter, Facebook, Email, and Reblog. And, for God’s sake, LIKE it. (I’m Beggin’.)
Go now with heartfelt thanks from the bottom of my blog. May the traffic be with you.
The Wired Researcher 