It's funny. Now that I'm unemployed and preparing to start my own business, I have less time to focus on my four weblogs than I did when I was working full-time -- and I didn't even post during working hours. Factor in a lively seven-month-old baby in the house, and the onset of the holidays, and it all starts to make sense. There aren't enough hours in the day, let alone days in the week.
A recent WIRED post by Valleywag's Paul Boutin made me temporarily reconsider my intentions of refocusing some time and energy on Buttermilk & Molasses, Garden of Words, North Richmond News and Noesis.
Writing a weblog today isn't the bright idea it was four years ago. The blogosphere, once a freshwater oasis of folksy self-expression and clever thought, has been flooded by a tsunami of paid bilge. Cut-rate journalists and underground marketing campaigns now drown out the authentic voices of amateur wordsmiths. It's almost impossible to get noticed, except by hecklers. And why bother? The time it takes to craft sharp, witty blog prose is better spent expressing yourself on Flickr, Facebook, or Twitter.
If you quit now, you're in good company. Notorious chatterbox Jason Calacanis made millions from his Weblogs network. But he flat-out retired his own blog in July. "Blogging is simply too big, too impersonal, and lacks the intimacy that drew me to it," he wrote in his final post.
But then I thought about my own observations from more than seven years of publishing in the land of weblogs, and know there is a different formula to chase than the one embraced by the national digerati.
Each of my weblogs serves a distinct role -- for me as a writer and publisher, and for the readers who visit them. When I retain focus on what makes each of them distinct, traffic soars -- two of my sites regularly see daily page views of close to 1,000. And when I lose focus and allow the sites to become cluttered with too much esoterica, they suffer.
So, what's this different formula of which I speak?
It's called knowing your passion, knowing your audience and marrying the two.
While Buttermilk & Molasses began it's run early in 2002 as a repository for anything I found of interest on the Internet, it took root as a passionate booster for the intentional construction and strengthening of community in the Richmond region. It took the tragic murders of the Harvey family in 2006, and the initially muddled launch of Richmond's new Downtown Master Plan process in 2007, to demonstrate for me what happens when my voice finds its readers.
The other factor in the formula has to do with geography. Or it does with two of my sites.
The inability or lack of desire on the part of Richmond's local media -- print, radio and television -- to either go hyperlocal or go deep and long in their coverage of the region creates a huge opening for sites like North Richmond News or the popular Church Hill People's News to own community news and information by delivering street-level details for readers within a specific local area, and for sites like Buttermilk & Molasses or the804.com to own depth with almost daily reporting on specific issues.
Fortunately for my wife and young daughter, my business plan does not factor in a revenue stream from weblogging. But I will be revamping each of my sites over the coming months, and refocusing my voice and attention to continue the fun work of building community through information, connection and technology.
