We’re not here to talk about me

Everyone says the best way to draw readers is to talk about yourself.

In theory, this is my blog, about me, about my writing and my progress as a writer. I mean, most people do well with finding that niche and writing to it. So what better place to talk about all the things on my mind then this blog?

Except… I don’t feel free to do that here.

It’s not that I don’t feel welcomed to open up. Actually many people I respect usually make mention of me in connection to my candid posts. I’ll pop out a chatty post or two every so often because I need to lay it on the line, so to speak. I just don’t feel like that’s what this place is to me though.

I’ve done the bare my soul on my blog bit. That led to my discovery and my blog life and real life colliding in a nasty way.

I’m not sure I feel comfortable talking about my (increasingly rare) exploits. What’s to say that someone else hasn’t touched on? I’m not a sex blog in the true sense of the word so most of the time I’m not sure my place here. My life isn’t angsty or interesting right now.

So I write stories. Fantasies laced with truth. Fictionalized reality. I can write, I know how to weave a tale. I no longer know how to talk about my life.

I started a vanilla blog. Mostly about work and my feelings related to that part of myself. It’s as candid as I can get, but tame compared to this place.

Which is the real, honest me?

Neither, both… It mirrors my life pretty accurately. I can’t say who I’m being totally me with anymore.

I wish I could say I could talk about whatever here. The jealousy I feel about ridiculous things, my inadequacies, my frustrations with the blog, my worries, or the aspects of my sexuality and spirituality I still haven’t sorted out. I can’t though because I still don’t believe anyone wants to hear it. I don’t think anyone cares. Fact, not being whiny.

To be truthful, if you read my stories, you’re getting me at my most honest. It goes back to not feeling like it’s noticed. The room is full and I’m standing to the side. Of course I’m wearing and saying the right stuff, but no one cares about that because everyone else is wearing and saying the right things, too.

What I’m trying to say is… Sometimes I feel like I’m falling on deaf ears.

Then there’s just not much else left to say, is there?

I couldn’t resist that photo. Kinda makes me laugh.


  1. I understand how you feel. I understand it because I understand Will. His post today was so off the wall but if people knew how low he thinks of himself and the shit he has waded through, they might understand why he is constantly surprised when someone actually reads one of his posts. When he asked me to write, I was really resistant because I worried about how he would view me being accepted (thinking that he is not). I was more surprised when he started his other blog for everything else that he thinks about…and he asked me to post there, too.

    Anyway, Cara. Do what feels right. I would love to read your other posts, about your every day life.

    1. I haven’t worked out whether I’d be willing to open up more. At the moment, the other site is more humorous than anything else, documenting my travels within my job. I haven’t started in on feelings (if I ever do). I think I need a place just for that, but I’m still not sure I’d feel safe sharing much.

      1. Will tends to overshare on his other blog and much of it is so personal and wrought with pain.it is helpful to him in getting it out of his system. But that’s him.

      2. Mine would end up being private or open to only a small group. I used to be an avid journaler, but stopped when I started blogging seriously a few years ago. Perhaps it’s time to go back to it

      3. Sweetie, Will and I are ordinary, boring people who just happen to love each other and love sex.

  2. I think we all know that self doubt. And as a died-in-the-wool sex blogger, I think I’m safe in saying that the overwhelming majority of us are sexually dysfunctional to some degree.
    Whatever you choose to write, know that more than one wank has been much improved for me as a direct result of your blog, and for that I am grateful.

    1. You sweet man, you. πŸ’‹

      Guess I just don’t feel like candid blogging is my thing. I don’t feel comfortable outlining my dysfunction either anymore. I’m either funny or a storyteller; I don’t feel anything is noticed or received. It is just a feeling, I know.

  3. You know how I feel about your writing, regardless of whatever you choose to write. You’re going to have some people who connect with your sexual stories, others who connect with you in other ways, and people like me (and others) who just love it when you write, we don’t really care what about. You probably have a shit ton of lurkers who just never come out to comment or engage with you…we all do. ((HUGS)) Whatever you write about, I’ll read.

    1. You’re a gem, truly. I no longer know what people connect to here. There are those who are awesome at stopping in to respond so I know what they like. You’ve always stopped in and offered feedback which I appreciate. I need encouragement a lot, and knowing I have lurkers that *may* read isn’t enough. Comparison has always been a struggle of mine so hearing about newer blogs that see their stats soar through the roof is discouraging to me. I know it’s not a comparison thing, but it does make me ask what the hell I think I’m doing here?? I’m not working toward publishing anymore and I don’t know how to be a “regular sex blogger”. Stories aren’t enough no matter how well crafted so what’s my purpose here? I don’t know anymore.

      1. Only you know the answer to this, but the question that comes to mind is this: Why do you write?

        Whatever that reason is, hold onto it and use it.

        Comparison is an ugly thing. I find myself doing it at times, too. I also have a bit of don’t-give-a-damn in me, though. This is the only place I’ve ever had where I can show a side of myself that the real world never sees – and it’s freeing. For me, even when stats and comments run low, that’s what keeps me going.

        So, I ask again, why do you write? Whatever that reason is, cultivate it.

      2. I write to express myself first and entertain second. I need to know my stories touch someone that reads. I need to know that how I feel is mirrored in the response from others. I write because I need things to make sense and I need to know someone else understands and values that.

      3. You and I have had this conversation many times. There are tricks of the trade to gain more readers and (hopefully) more engagement. And you know I’m happy to help if you ever want to try more of them. πŸ™‚

  4. I’ve watched your blogging journey transform over the years. And you’re right. The fiction doesn’t suck as many comments in. It’s the same on my blog. But you are so good. Get your novella done and publish it. Blog about your writing struggles. Let us cheer you on. And the buy the finished product. Hugs and happy thoughts. -Marian

    1. It’s just battling the feeling that no one wants what I’m offering. Even my candid posts don’t draw much of a response anymore. I just kinda get to the point where my frustration tips over and I want to stop. This happens when feedback isn’t plentiful enough. I’m vain and need encouragement, a nasty combo

      I’m not sure I try publishing again. The response has been incredibly underwhelming in the past and I’m not sure it’s worth the effort.

  5. “I’m not as thi-teresting as you ink I am.” You crack me up miss Cara! Seriously!

    Your fictional and non-fictional prose are thought stabbing, provocative and very full of allure- but I know you know that we all know that you know that we know that, ya know?! For me, it is talking about how life intertwines with our sexual and non-sexual struggle to make the two coexist. The interesting part is one or the other seems to bleed through onto the opposite canvass which creates the true fabric of our lives. Pouring the emotion and confusion out electronically here (I believe) helps us become more of who it is we wish to be more like in our personal, non-bloglandia lives.

    Aside from all of that, you miss, have an incredible gift of sharing a thought through your stories. When you do, we see the you which you are striving to be via your eloquent articulation of story painting.

    My wish this holiday season is for you to construct more, more of you, more of what you want, need, crave, desire- uncork the remainder of your artistic vintage and give it life to be tasted by us all.

    Thank you, miss Cara, for entertaining us so well… πŸ™‚

    -Tom Wolf (Mynx’s Sir)

    1. I’m not very interesting. Lol. Frankly, I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore. It’s not enough and too much at the same time. That feeling of being invisible is intense. Not sure I’ll be able to battle through it.

  6. Cara,

    I am guilty of not commenting enough on blogs that I love. Savannah and I LOVE you and your writing. You have touched us both very deeply.

    I am in the same boat as you with feedback. My personal blog gets minimal traffic and even fewer response. The only thing that drives the numbers up are when Savannah turns the camera on me or herself. My gosh, the traffic for her Boobday pic and the ones she did of me is boosted, but only a small contingent of people visit the posts that are directly from my heart. I do feel better when I write it and so I have to resign myself to that fact. I am not writing for anyone but me. I struggle with the idea that we are only valued for sex or exposing our sensuality to them. We are disregarded entirely because we are human just like everyone else. There’s nothing exceptional about us, so why bother with us?

    1. I whine about people not commenting, but I understand why they don’t. No big deal. It’s the nature of the blogging game I know.

      The audience is fickle. It’s hard to know what brings them and even harder to figure out what keeps them. I think I’ve given up figuring it out. Not gonna stop blogging so I’ll continue on like normal with only my occasional whine about the lack of track and response.

  7. Giving up on figuring it out is difficult for me. Internet behavior analysis has been a function of my career for decades so letting it go is a mental struggle for me.

    Should I just be calloused or indifferent? I was that way personally for too long so I don’t think that I can go back now.

    I am with you on what you are feeling. Let’s go grab a beer and commiserate.

  8. Ok, I’m going to try to respond to this finally. It’s been percolating since you posted it (LOVE that pic, btw, OMG, it’s perfect!).

    Here’s the thing about blogging in general: YOU HAVE TO HAVE BLINDERS ON. You just do. You can’t look at anyone else around you unless it’s maybe to rework your blog layout because you like how so-and-so’s done hers, or whatever. Seriously.

    My numbers have waxed and waned over the years (3 now!) and the comments seem to be less than in the past, but then they’ll surge again. I’ll go through a period of worry that no one likes me anymore since they all seem to go and comment on some other blog but not mine and then I slap my blinders back on (and myself) and move on, think about what it is I want to do with my blog and who I want to be.

    Ultimately, it’s not the number of people who comment, but what is shared by both me and anyone who does take the time to leave a note. I cannot possibly begin to care about what the rest are doing. And neither can you.

    I comment only occasionally on your fiction because I often don’t know what to say. Fictional blog posts aren’t really my thing. However, I want you to know that I support you completely even when I’m not commenting and you already should know by now I think you’re a superb writer.

    I care about you, despite never laying eyes on you, and I want you to know that you can do whatever the hell you want with this space. Candid blogging, sex blogging, ranting, raving, fictional exploits, whatever. I think you have a much more loyal and devoted fan base than other blogs who have 3x the comments of both you and me combined.

    You’re in it for the long-haul, Cara, and we’re right there with you.

I like it when you talk to me

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