Slave to Fame

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We all start as nobody.

Every blogger begins with no one reading his stories. They lie there, in the World Wide Web, among the trillions of pages all seeking attention.

"Read me! Me! Me!"

"No!! Read me first!"

Slowly by slowly, a trickle of people start reading your blog. Some of them are nice enough to leave a comment. Then you begin to attract followers.

Ten, twenty, then fifty, then after a while, a hundred. A hundred twenty, and so on and so forth. At first, it's just fun. A delight to see someone talking back to you, arguing with you, agreeing with you. Then bit by bit, you begin to get obsessed.



I didn't notice it but I had started checking my blog more often to see whether someone had added another comment, whether my followers had increased. I'd wake up in the middle of the night to pee and I'd check for comments to my latest entry. I'd look at the statistics over and over again.

Little did I know but I had become a slave to fame. But who can blame me? Let he or she amongst us who is not guilty be the first to point an accusing finger. At one point, we all crave and desire that. To be admired, liked, loved. Who wouldn't?

When people tell you that they never forget certain stories you wrote; that you made them laugh, made them cry. When some of the bloggers you admire most tell you you're one of their favorites. When strangers from uhm, well Grindr, would message and say "Oh my God! Are you Kane the blogger? You're like a star man!!!"

But the thing with popularity is; it is never enough. Like money and beauty, you always want more. So what if I have a thousand followers, I want ten thousand more. So what if one hundred people commented on my last entry, I want five hundred more.

It went on for months until one afternoon, I found myself clicking the refresh button every three minutes hoping someone added a comment. I caught myself and suddenly, I felt very foolish. I began to laugh at the absurdity of it, for allowing myself to be consumed by the desire to be popular, for letting fame get into my head. It was enough.

Some of the more observant readers noticed I don't have a followers widget in my page. I had one but I removed it. To stop myself from being an attention whore and focus on what I truly care most about.

Writing. Not fame, but words.



Having said that, it is not my intention to say that you, my readers are not important to me. As the writer Barbara Kingsolver once said, "We are nothing if we can't respect our readers."

I think I have some of the most loyal and intelligent readers and I am grateful to you for accompanying me on my journey. I know that in a world full of great writers (and bloggers), I am humbled that you took time to read my stories and put interesting comments.

And the thing is, I think I can be a very difficult writer. I try to write about different things (topics which some may like, but turn off others), I write long pieces and given the rather, uhm, short-attention span people have nowadays, it's a wonder people actually take time to read the entirety of a story. But some of you do, and I am genuinely touched.

It's audacious enough to send a piece of writing into the world, to ask people to take time to read it, shut up, ignore lovers and kids and officemates, delay work, just to listen to me. But that is what we all do, we ask people to listen to us. And the reason why I appreciate your loyalty is because I am a terribly demanding reader myself. And I make no apologies for it.

I have long ago accepted I will not live forever. I will never be able to finish all the great books and movies out there, never have enough time to see all the museums and mountains and castles in the world. Time, indeed, is gold.

And therefore, when it comes to reading blogs I have to choose. Let's face it. Though the number of bloggers has increased dramatically through the years, the amount of time we have has not. Each of us still has the same twenty-four hours in a day.

And believe me, I know how you feel when it comes to reading long entries. In the introduction to the Best American Short Stories 2001, Kingsolver said

Once in a workshop after I'd already explained repeatedly that brevity is the soul of everything, writing-wise, and I was still getting fifty-page stories that should have been twenty-page stories, I announced: "Starting tomorrow, I will read twenty-five pages of any story you give me, and then I'll stop. If you think you have the dazzling skill to keep me hanging on for pages twenty-six plus because my life won't be complete without them, just go ahead and try."

Over time, we fall into a pattern. There are bloggers whose every entry you read, there are others that you don't visit as often. And eventually… some you never visit at all.

Either there were too many grammatical errors, they didn't know how to structure and edit their work, or their stories simply weren't compelling enough. Similar to what some readers probably felt with my blog.

Some of those who used to regularly comment on my stories are gone. Sometimes, I ask myself: where are they? Why did they stop writing to me? I miss them. But the world changes, people come and go. But some of you stayed. Ain't that something.
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