“Spare the people the suspense”. I said to myself when I woke up at 4am and opened the blank post. “The people”, meaning the ## people that follow me as a courtesy because I follow them, are tired of your long winded posts.
In the blog world you need to learn to get to the point. Say it in a succinct way so they can get in and get out.
You’ve got to grab their attention before the next text comes in. You’ve got to make them laugh or cry before the next cat meme does. You’ve got to incite a riot in their brains before Trump tweets again or light a fire in their loins before Tinder chimes.
But then again, maybe the people who read my blog aren’t the ones who will spawn the evolutional slide into #idiocracy. No, my readers are refined and shit. Like me, they read books and other things of that nature. They opt to read the ingredients on the back of the shampoo bottle when their pooping instead of losing themselves in their phones until their legs go numb. Poly…quate..rn..ium… what the fuck?
Fuck,,, You definitely need to watch how much you swear. It’s a fucking blog, not the last lap of a damned #NASCAR race. There’s always that one extra curse word that signals to the reader that you’re a disingenuous piece of shit. They’ll think you’re an edgy bad ass at first but once you say “fuck” too many times they’ll just think you’re a stupid motherfucking fucker who can’t fucking think and stop fucking reading.
You’ve got to be honest in the blogosphere. If you’ve had a secret that all the sudden you want to share for some reason, rip it off like a band-aid; Guys, I’ve got herpes.
If you’re struggling, say it in the title.
If you’re staring down the proverbial barrel of a proverbial gun; find a picture or gif.
If you can’t find the words and/or are too embarrassed to say something make up a shitty metaphor; the combination of 2 halves is greater then the sum of its parts. Unless the 2 parts won’t seek to understand each other.
If you’re in pain, emotionally starved, silently suffering, angry, sad, if your blood is running cold, and your heart is solid ice then you’ve got to bury the reason why in the second to last paragraph; my marriage is on the brink of ending. I’m not working on myself fast enough to fix it. There’s a path to fix it but I’m either too fucking stupid to find it or too fucking weak to walk it.
If you’re really fucked up; see a therapist. If you’re the most fucked; start a blog.
More Fucked Up Than You 