The WordPress platform creates some interesting connections. I can tell from the stats that are being charted in the background that there’s some modest traffic in this space that I’ve come to expect, but there’s also a set of invitations that open a backdoor and welcome readers to come in through the mudroom and the kitchen. I can see this happening on occasion as a post is released and almost immediately gets “liked” by someone I don’t know or have any possible everyday connection to.
Particularly, it’s the #tags that draw people this way. Whenever I label an entry with #writing I’ll get a significant uptick in attention. Similarly, #poetry gets some recognition from some cohort of frustrated poets, me among them. If I labeled all my entries with those tags I’d likely double readership; and I’d probably get exposed to lots more other writers. These clicks and likes are a nice recognition, but more than this I get to see what others are writing and what kinds of conversations we may be having even without talking face to face.
Recently, I wrote about cherry blossoms in the quick moment of reflection immediately after coming in from a walk across campus and just before I ate my lunch. I mused about the sexual role of the flowers and I marveled at how reliant the tree was on the timely, dependable transition of season. Using #faith and #sex as tags on the same post seemed totally appropriate.
This evoked an interesting intersection of readers, and as I followed even those few who left a fingerprint on these pages I wondered what the conversation in this room would be like. If a paragraph on a cherry tree can bring those who write about their Christian values together with those who write about sex toys—all fascinating and worthwhile reads, by the way—then perhaps writing can save us after all.