1. As a feminist… (G’wan. Get to the point. Quickly, quickly, I’ve some celeb gossip here waiting to be read)
2. As a parent…(*deep breath* …. Ah right gotcha. I feared you were going to wax lyrical on what you feel more keenly than those who aren’t.)
3. I had this mad dream last night… (*scrolls down*)
4. Sorry the blog has been so quiet lately…(And you choose to break the silence with this gem?)
5. Do you believe in God?…(As a feminist…haha got you back)

And that concludes today’s edition of Unsolicited Blogging Advice. Tune in next time when we will have tips on how to subtly insert classic literary texts into a post on farts, and Morag will be here to show you how to convert leftover spam comments in to flash fiction.

i

Do you believe in a blogging afterlife?

What happens to a blog’s soul once it dies?

What is the average life expectancy of a blog?

Do you think a blog has the right to self-determination when it comes to its end-of-life?

What if the blog no longer wishes to be a burden on the blogosphere?

All thoughts welcome.

“The best thing and the worst thing about the place”

That was the much coveted accolade held by Crazy Ann in the rural town I once lived.

Ann didn’t divide people so much as divide each person.  Among her many simultaneously endearing/unnerving habits was calling into the office unannounced, doing the sign of the cross on you with her eyes before announcing the state of your energy levels. She had an uncanny knack for correctly gauging mine somewhere just above ground level. Or, in my arse, as she delicately put it, while aiming her foot directly at it. It frequently did the trick.

In the unlikely event of her popping in here with her size nine yards, I’ve enlisted the help of you obliging dot comrades to administer a proverbial boot up my behind in a bid to jump-start my blogging battery. It’s on the blink. Was that too many Bs? Hang on, no, don’t answer that. But please do answer whatever questions below happen to tickle your keyboard.

*Morag scuttles forward with the book*

I’ve been obsessed with the lack of all of the above at one time or another. It made me hungry. So, food. No wait, a sport – extreme eating.

Sorry, you lost me at ‘secure’.

Assume I cannot suspend enough disbelief to imagine that I would ever be walking in a park.

Yes. It would involve being financially secure. My partner is ready to take it to the next level – we’re going back to the Credit Union next week. I would be willing to make the repayments on time.

I look to the future with anxiety about my anticipation. How much anticipation is too little? How much anxiety too much? A delicate balancing act.

You?

Anyone? Anyone?

Woman third from the left in the back row. Yes! You!

Sorry, could you repeat that? Oh. Right.

She was just swatting a fly, which is why her hand was up.

*awkward silence*

Awards. I can take them or leave them. Except when it comes to Ryan Gosling being over-looked for a gong for Blue Valentine, which I will always contend was a gross miscarriage of justice.

So, blogging awards shouldn’t really give me jip, especially when I harbour fairly low expectations of my own, which have predictably been borne out by a dwindling readership. I’m reasonably comfortable with being an acquired taste. I can take me or leave me much of the time, too.

But when it comes to organisers of blog awards casually taking or leaving large swathes of bloggers while hogging lofty straplines, it tends to get on my tits.

A quick peer through the history of the Irish Blog Awards shows an evolution of a peer-led rough ‘n’ ready collective cheer-lead into the slick PR company extravaganza it is today. It should be within the fabric of any modern movement to periodically re-invent itself. The corresponding lament for resulting casualties is inevitable, as are the rapid chalk-ups of same to behavior of the strictly churlish and curmudgeonly. The net is buoyed up on simple binary formulae.

Which makes it difficult to call out the insidious dominance of the ‘lifestyle’ ‘category’ as the enemy of good writing. For the second year running, the ‘personal’ category has been jettisoned in favour of this apparently convenient catch-all. Only the catch-all relies heavily on catching as many products as possible: dining, fashion, make-up, cooking. Preferably with photos. The quality of writing appears to be an afterthought, if considered at all. Less in sync with the values of writing than those of glossy publishing and ‘industry experts’. Commonly caught up in their dedication to Selling to The Consumer.

If this reads as an attack on lifestyle blogging, I apologise. It’s not meant as one. Or a suggestion that lifestyle blogging is incompatible with good writing. But rather an unapologetic two-fingers up to the casual and unquestioned flicking aside of bloggers that fail to fit the category however broad the catch-all appears. And the unsubtle expansion of personal blogging into personal PR, an extension of the catalogue industry. Where the anonymous are the creeping social media pariah, the writing scope of females stereotyped to a laughable degree, and blokes don’t stand a chance.

Squeezed from consideration are those who shy away from documenting their forays into personal tastes and tidbits; who care less for current trends and aesthetics than treading thoughts on all manner of topics too thinly spread to qualify them comfortably in other categories. Of the half dozen blogs that spring to mind, none would be eligible for the category criteria. Yet they contain some of the best of Irish writing I have the good fortune to click on. Substance over style. In my opinionated opinion. Perhaps it’s a problem of taste. Or more likely – the taste-makers.

Ireland Blog Awards – ignoring some of the best of Irish Writing.