I have entered the world of total and complete blogger parnoia. Total and complete paranoia, so complete in its totality that I haven’t vacuumed the potting soil trailed onto my living room carpet by a defective bag (it’s been there since yesterday), haven’t showered, haven’t worked on my new book that I must get written by the time my husband goes back to work in August, haven’t read for pleasure (other than the addictive online stuff, and no, I still haven't read the book you loaned me last month--that applies to a number of you, too many of you) and my rear is beginning to take on the shape of the lumpy cushion I'm sitting on as we, so to say, speak.

How did this happen? I admit, before I got started, I was a bit naïve (read: totally ignorant) about the world of blogging, in fact, I didn’t read blogs regularly, just a hit here and there. It wasn’t until I actually started blogging myself that I began to wonder what others were doing to find success. Because, let’s be real, (oh, do let’s!) I don’t want to do anything if I don’t think I will be really successful at it (I’m hopelessly optimistic). But, in order to be considered successful, by myself or anyone else, there needed to be proof, therefore, those numbers at the bottom of the page, they needed to go up. I needed them to go up. Really needed them to, in a scary, needy kind of way, and fast. So, I set about finding out how the bloggers with high numbers collected them.

That’s when I started reading the blogs of others, which, by the way, has been fun, but it
also led me to notice things, things that made my heart go pitty-pat. Things like, awards, and, umm, well, awards! Who doesn’t want those? And then I started to notice something else—there are some really, truly good bloggers out there, very funny and witty women to whom I would not want to be compared in fear of getting my booty kicked.

I started to slink into a depression.

Never mind that, unlike most bloggers, I actually have a book coming out in December, a book that I actually wrote,

and an editor (with really good taste) actually bought,

and even actually liked (she said so!).

Woo hoo! Still, I had been blogging for over two months and though I have loyal readers (even one or two who bother to comment—which I so much appreciate, by the way) I figured they were pretty much mostly family. Or were they?

The need to know was more intense than my craving for the frozen Snicker’s bar in my freezer (of which I have eaten four) (so far) (today). To wit, I signed up for Sitemeter. In less than 24 hours, I have become obsessed with

1) who is reading my blog, (sometimes I can tell, sometimes I can’t)
2) how many pages they viewed,
3) how long they visited
4) and what search words might have been used that led someone to my blog by accident

I realize this is not news to those of you out there who are "successful" bloggers. You know all about search terms and RSS feeds and other things I can't name because I have yet to learn of them. No doubt you are laughing up your collective sleeve at my greenhorn status, as well as my highly optimistic (read: unrealistic) pursuit of blogger superstardom. But, according to my sitemeter statistics, you (i.e. highly successful bloggers) are not reading my blog. I have my answer and it is clear that I have a loyal readership who are not only mostly related to me but also gluttons for punishment. Meanwhile, I will keep analyzing and reanalyzing the data whilst my 6 year old becomes welded to the Wii remote, my teenagers tear apart the kitchen in search of sustenance and I live out my blogging life in realtive obscurity.