Tuesday, 18 September 2018

I've got a favour to ask you.

I have thought for a long time about writing this particular post. I still feel nervous about it. I think because I value the integrity of the blog, and the autonomy of the reader to do with each post what they will. That sounds a lot heavier than I mean it, but I am aware that in our current climate of clickbait and manipulative algorithms people are tired of having content shoved in their faces. And maybe my content isn't wanted, or needed enough for it to make it further than my circle of Facebook friends.

But I am going to ask, since I preach about being brave enough to do things one is scared of, for you to do me a favour. I don't always know exactly who 'you' is. Most of the time I am surprised by who it is. I still half expect the readership of this blog to extend only to my dad and some close friends. Happily I am often proven wrong.

So I am going to ask this: if you enjoy a post, and I mean genuinely enjoy it, would you share it? Or even just like it, so that more people on your feed and mine can see it? I want to clarify that I want this to happen only when you feel it's right. For example, don't share this post because I literally asked you to, share the next one because maybe it made you feel something, maybe it felt important.

I feel like I am writing a letter to 'you', asking for your help. In a way I guess I am. I've spent enough time working on this blog to want it to go somewhere. If it doesn't it means it wasn't supposed to, but if it can it was because 'you' as a collective reader decided it was good enough to share with your version of the wider world. And by going somewhere I'm not sure exactly what I mean, but sharing my writing with more people would mean a lot. Just a few friends of yours you think would appreciate it, maybe.

I might regret this post, I might not, but there's never any harm in trying, is there? And I trust 'you', whoever you are, to let me know when mistakes are made, or when I think they've been made but  haven't. 'You' often keep me on the straight and narrow, just by being there to listen to the thoughts I type out I hope can always be heard.