My “low-traffic” blog is like that friend who listens but doesn’t understand
What’s the point of writing on a blog that few people (or no one) reads? The eternal question. The question Brittany asked in her post.
A question that, despite our best efforts as a blogging community, we haven’t managed to answer definitively. And it’s not that it’s a difficult question, but rather that it’s one whose answer is different for every person and, therefore, has the potential to spark a philosophical debate.
In her post, she mentions a point that I find crucial: the alternatives to a personal blog are more intuitive, guarantee greater visibility, and serve the same purpose. These alternatives are social media or, if what we’re looking for is privacy, a journal.
I couldn’t agree more. In fact, I’d say it’s a fact. But it’s only a fact if your goal is to be read by others or simply to spill your feelings onto a sheet of paper. Because even if one option is more effective than another, I don’t think the other should become obsolete.
Every post on my personal blog has always (or most of the time) been the result of a conversation with myself; it’s been born from the need to talk about a specific topic with someone else. Every time I write something, it feels like I’m having a conversation with another person, someone I deeply trust, who listens without judgment and lets me yap and yap, making the right comments or asking the right questions at the right moment.
That’s why it feels like I’m talking to a close friend who listens but doesn’t fully understand what I mean. And I know that sounds strange, doesn’t that feel somewhat negative? The answer is no, because the simple yet very noble act of listening to others is often more than enough.
I can’t speak for everyone, but many times in life all I’ve wanted is to be heard. I’m not looking for advice, I don’t want my story to be relatable, I don’t want a solution to what I’m saying. I just want to be heard. And the reality is that few people possess that quality; the ability to listen without interrupting, without making it about themselves, without the anxiety to offer solutions.1
That’s one of the main reasons I keep a personal blog, because every time I publish, there’s the possibility that someone listens (reads) what I’m saying, and in the end, it doesn’t matter if they understand my point—the important thing is that what I wanted to say is now out there, in the world. Someone heard me, and that’s all I need.
Of course, it’s not the only reason, because receiving a response is also very gratifying, and it doesn’t compare at all to the replies I’ve received on social media like Twitter or Threads. When someone takes the time to respond via email or leave a comment in the guestbook, that interaction is worth a thousand times more than a reply on those platforms.
For me, though, the first great benefit begins with the act of writing the post and clicking “publish”; it’s an exercise in introspection or analysis that enriches ideas bouncing around in my brain and that have the potential to generate more meaningful interactions.
Of course, I don’t think wanting your blog to be visited by many people is a bad thing. Wanting to spark conversation and wanting our texts to be read is something I fully understand. That’s why I like the idea that options exist and that we can choose the platform that best fits what we want to achieve as writers.
But still, I just wanted to say that having a blog is cool as fuck.
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It’s not that they’re bad people, but listening is a skill that’s developed, and not all of us have it.↩