Skip to main content

What it takes for a blogger to survive

I have been in and around this blogosphere since almost a year, if one takes the sum total of the number of posts I have written till now. I also had a sabbatical (I would not call it one, but let's leave it at that) for months before I started blogging again.

I regret for not starting the blogging journey much earlier. When I see some bloggers still continuing their hobby of blogging, I feel a sense of solidarity with them. I feel like asking them how their blogging journey throughout their life has effected their thoughts and actions. I can only see them getting more wise and matured with the passage of time. I do want to be like them, mature and wise.

For me, being actively present in this world of blogging, has helped me learn so many facets of life and their meanings. I have learned about wonderful books, poems, dreams, aspirations, failure, success and anecdotes of all sorts. I have learned about people from different places more than what I could have from my limited and reclusive real life interactions.

Coming back to the title of this post, What it takes for a blogger to survive?

I guess the one most important thing required for the survival of a blogger is the availability of time! We all have time, but most of us do not know how to prioritize. I have had issues with allocating time to bogging as it takes two to three hours of my life in pursuing this hobby. Not only do I need to write, but also to read a lot! Reading is the most essential part of blogging, according to me. I read blogs, news articles and novels. Part of the reason for reading is actually my habit but the second reason is the constant need to identify myself in those texts! I suffer from the need to validate my thoughts with written materials.

However, ever since I bought myself a smart phone with a bigger screen size, my life has become easier. Now, I do not need to dedicate a specific two to three hours of my time just for blogging. I can have a peek at this world of blogging at any time I want, no matter what I am doing and also I can carry some of my novels in my pocket.

The second important thing required is the topic for blogging. I do not think it is tough for a habitual reader to find out topics for blog posts, but what I found difficult was to write down the ideas my muse delivered, immediately. I relied too much on my poor memory for recalling those ideas later on.

But now it is all sorted! I have a writing pad on my mobile where I jot down the topics that I find interesting enough to write about.

These topics have popped up in my mind during certain odd hours but now I can manage to write them down as soon as they come. It is much similar to catching Pokemon things with smart phones, that came into news not so while ago.

Finally, what it takes for a blogger to survive? It takes interest to blog!

Happy blogging. 

Comments

  1. For those who have taken up blogging as a hobby, availability of spare time is certainly a main factor

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very true. It is not quite same with that of other hobbies like stamp collection, reading books, singing or dancing. Blogging is not a stand alone hobby and therefore it takes more time than that in others.

      Delete
  2. A blogger who considers this his hobby would surely survive.. his blogs may be few over time but then he would do so now and then. I say that because i am one of those guys who has been inconsistent :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well, then you must be inconsistently regular 😁.
      Thanks for visiting here, Ramesh. Of course it is the interest which never let a hobby to die.

      Delete
  3. Blogging keeps me alive, so to say. There are three things I do passionately: teaching reading and blogging. My students are a tremendous source of joy for me as is reading. Blogging can sometimes be frustrating especially when you write your best and nobody cares while a shoddy post of yours may draw undue attention.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for writing on the thing I was most curious about. How do bloggers deal with no readership or readers who are not tuned to a bloggers articles? Do the bloggers write for the readers or for themselves? If they write for themselves, can they nor write it on a diary? I am intrigued about such things and more related to blogging as a hobby.
      I am continuing this hobby apart from reading is because perhaps the engagement will bring clarity which I lack to most of the extent.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Light knows Independence

"Baba" called Asmaan to his father, "When are they giving me the books. I miss my studies already"
His father had a small shop of second hand books. Books don't die, he believed. They don't have a shelf life. People die. They die of poverty - hunger, malnutrition, illiteracy, unemployment, politics and flood. But books don't.
But he was proved wrong when flood stormed, like an unwarranted storm, a storm which gulped down everything like an ugly demon never satisfied of preying. His tiny heart seemed to miss those blotted ink marks of yellowing pages. The roaring water not only drowned his abode but also his heart which kindled a dream to soar high, higher than the cupid's arrow for he had heard his devotion to books attest - "the sky is the limit".
Ironically, the only thing he could look upto through the shabby refuge camp was a gloomy sky which held no promises. But he held on to the promises which comes like the same deluge inundating…

The invitation letter

If you look closely at him, you will see a labyrinth of lines. Curved lines. Faded lines. Intersecting lines. Lines which formed through ages of anguish. Valleys formed through the concealed dry tears of loneliness. Marched, the invisible soldiers of agonies marched through those valleys. Left . Right. Left and shoot! Killing the unarmed beggars of happiness on the road.

His clothed hands, clothed with loose folded, blemished and wrinkled brown skin, held an invitation letter.

What you see would be a painting- a dilapidated wooden house, shades of yellow and red enveloping the background, a recliner in the centre and the old man sitting on it holding the letter. The hands with clothed and wrinkled memories were the only thing which remained unsteady in that painting.

He would not know what was written in that letter. The boundaries were becoming addled to him. The black ink and white spaces knew no boundaries, his memories and dreams knew no demarcations. His memories were dreams …

Kafka, the monsters and the nameless.

Your ticket has been confirmed. Seat no. 13W. Have a safe and a happy journey.
A part of the confirmation mail screamed at me. Why do they even attempt at writing the same "safe and happy journey" message to everyone. What is so happy about a journey, I thought.
My bus was meant to depart at 5 a.m from the terminal. I woke up much earlier than that. When you have ghosts of past haunting your dreams, the morning becomes the end of your darkness. The mind fears those monsters with such trepidations that the cobwebs of the nightmares have to be broken by the dawn of new rays, new hopes and new aspirations.
From the corner of my mind I can see those monsters seeking the darkness that I have been trying to thwart. "Thou shall not find light", they seem to say even in the midst of the morning light. Going to a new place would help me find my light, I thought and so did the doctor, with a bag full of anti darkness pills, concur.
It didn't take me time to pack my ba…

A dead clock

Where did my voice fall? Cobwebs on the wall With a dead clock and  lizards crawl Staring at me, making me so small So small!
The dawns and the dusks The days and nights in this dust Looking for my voice, used to trust Looked at my mind, oh a rust!

Waiting for you here
Amidst my layers, within my fear
Steps away from my door, you there?
You there?

Where did my voice go?
A dead clock or is it slow?
Oh! I feel so low
Feel so low

Ma rulzzz !!!

I have a firm belief that communication is an engagement of both the listener and the speaker in a clear, concised and convenient form, where the roles of the speaker and listener should be interchanged in accordance to the context of the conversation and it needs to occur naturally without anyone imposing the other to remain in his/her previous role.
Communication uses tools which forms the basis of language. A language, just like evolution of species, has been evolved through a myriad of civilizations right from the beginning of early man.
Communication undoubtedly has been the only sole means for the survival of homo sapiens on a planet which doesn't treat anyone with niceties. Nature is cruel to everyone and to not communicate with others leads to the natural regression towards extinction.
We have seen communication in the form of cave paintings which shows the human tendency to record events for the present community of human beings and also for the posterity.
But as the civ…

What is self confidence?

What is self confidence?


It is not about the desperation to get something anyhow by any means of any hook or crook.

It is about knowing fully at the onset that you will fail. You will fail miserably with each and every step but yet it's about having a belief that you will be able to make it.

It's not about being intelligent or genius or clever or extrovert .

It is about how far you are willing to push yourself towards the edge of the insanity.

It is not about finding an easy way out

It is about experiencing the path that you took in the journey and making the best out of it.

You might never make it large but you can die trying.  You can have a satisfaction of being courageous at the adverse situations in life.

Life is composed of time. A man made concept of suggesting that the entropy of the universe is increasing incessantly.

No one can stop the entropy, no one can stop the chaos and no one can stop the random events thrown at you.

If it throws you a stone, it will be your …

Brevity

Brevity


Brevity, that is so hard to find my feelings and my emotions my love and my affections Oh I go so blind for your love in my mind
Brevity, that is so hard to find my feelings and my endearment my love and my sentiment Oh I go so inclined for your love on my line
Brevity, that is so hard to find my feelings and my passion my love and my devotion oh I go so behind for your love is so maligned
And I resign And I go behind I am so blind your love's maligned And I go behind And I resign

The disease of oblomovka and the boulder of Sisyphus

What does he run after? What does he want from his life? What is his true calling in his life?

Almost hundred pages are spent showing him lying on his bed. Those pages depict how he never steps out of his bed to enter into the rat race of the mundane life. He has a plot of land somewhere in the country side and when an ominous letter reaches his bed, he starts planning to take matters in his hand. He resolves to put an end to the financial crisis he might suffer if he continues to stay on his bed. But can it not wait till he rests his neck on the pillow for sometime. And thus he dozes off to sleep and the letter gets dusted with his intermittent cycle of sleep and resting of his neck.

Oblomov, the protagonist of the novel Oblomov, represents the epitome of slothfulness of mankind. We all at some point in our lives have suffered from the disease of slothfulness, a trait of human beings which disinclines one to exert his energy over trivial matters.

Everything to Oblomov is trivial. The th…

By the virtue and vice of being Selfish

I am selfish. I do not feel any shame to admit this virtue. I agree with the concept proposed by Ayn Rand in Fountainhead. To seek happiness for one's self, to be self respecting, to be self supporting, to not to sacrifice my self, at the cost of my happiness, to others and never to allow others to sacrifice their self for my cause, is what being selfish means to me.

Yes, I am selfish. And when I help others by going out of my way, I do that for my own selfish reasons. The reasons range from feeling a sense of happiness to feeling a sense of superiority. But I do have my own reasons for my altruism. And hence even my altruism has that hint of selfishness.

Yes, I condone selfishness. Each individual must be selfish on the definition of Ayn Rand's for our society to advance. And hence, I do not consider this virtue of selfishness as a vice. To think for one's self is, in all its worldly definition, the most selfless act.

So what is your take on the word selfish? I will be more …

A letter with no words

What can I give you more But a letter with no words a blank sheet of memories!
I thought of infusing the page with some notes some notes of music that my heart cries But what can I give you more but a silence of my sound!
I thought of enclosing some moonlight on it some shy reflection of my dreams that I once dreamt with you But what can I give you now but a darkness of miseries
I thought of giving you a fresh page with newly gathered hopes that I endeavoured to have without you But what can I give you now but a crumbled folio with creases of agonies
What can I give you more But a letter with no words a wasted sheet of memories!