I’ve been thinking a bit about this knitblogging thing lately. More than just the blogging, actually. The whole knitting community thing, online and off.
It sort of started on Sunday, when I had three recent posts with no comments. It’s a familiar chain of thought, really. I wonder why my blog has attracted so few commenters. Then I mock myself for being disappointed. After all, I’m not doing this in order to get lots of comments. I tell myself I’m just keeping a knitting diary. After all, I used to write about knitting in my ordinary, offline diary anyway.
But then why make it public? I tell myself it’s so I can show my friends what I’m doing. But most of my friends aren’t knitters. Oh, a few have dropped by when I posted a recipe or photos of the house extension, but generally they’re not interested in the knitting. And it’s not like I have family dropping by. I have one sibling I haven’t spoken to in years, and even if I had I would expect them to read this blog in a million years. My Dad surfs the internet, but he is the only family member I knit for, so I haven’t directed him here. Mum won’t even let Dad keep That Evil Box Called A Computer in the house.
There are a couple of people who I’ve befriended via the knitting thing who do comment now and then. I’m grateful for that. I’d like to give them a big hug for it. But still, if those people didn’t comment, would I bother keeping up this blog?
Is it in order to join in the Great Worldwide Knitting Community? Maybe…
I joined a U3A knitting group a couple of years back. U3A stands for “University of the Third Age”, which is basically a fancy name for a social club for oldies, though it’s not restricted to senior citizens. I thought if I hung out with older, more experienced knitters I’d learn heaps. Instead I ended up teaching them – and being asked to demonstrate the lastest knitting technique in each monthly class. It was fun, but ultimately a bit disappointing. And the group shifted focus from sharing knowledge and enthusiams about knitting to charity knitting at about the time the chronic fatigue I had got to it’s worse state, so I stopped going and wasn’t too disappointed about it.
I tried the Stitch’n’bitch meeting thing. It was fun and I met a few nice knitters. But the only one within a manageable distance to my home was held during a weekday, which doesn’t really suit anyone with a full time job. Eventually they stopped the meets, which was sad, but I could hardly complain when I only managed to make a few meets.
That left me with the online community. I read blogs. I joined the Aussie s’n’b yahoo group and participated in discussions. I’ve been to kip events. I’ve read books by bloggers. I started a blog. I entered it in a local blog ring (I’m sure it’d be lost in the zillions of blogs in the os ones). I’ve met a few fellow bloggers and (fatigue willing) even manage to hang out with them now and then. I joined Project Spectrum and Secret Pal and enjoyed both. I listen to podcasts. I’m so in there.
So why do I feel this strange disconnection from it all? Why do I feel something is missing? Does anyone else feel this way?
And is it completely and utterly pointless for me to even ask this question, when only a handful of people are going to read this anyway?
I read every post. I’m a *really* crappy commenter, but I’m here!
I can’t help with the rest of it. Non- knitters enjoying reading about your knitting and seeing the pictures, though. We’re just not good at saying so :).
Lol! I appreciate that you two read the blog – especially you, gillian, a non-knitter.
I’m not fishing for comments or trying to get anyone to de-lurk. I really am trying to nut out why I feel like this knitting community thing that is talked about on blogs and the like hasn’t met my expectations. And that brings me to wonder what my expectations are, if they’re reasonable, and if they are then why they’re not being met.
I suspect I got sucked into the idea of being welcomed into a big sisterhood (with the occasional brother) of crafty like-mindedness. Or I’d find a knitting soulmate or two to go on yarn road trips or to festivals with like the podcasters Knitty D and the City, or LIme&Violet.
Or maybe I’m just jealous of those US knitters with their huge 1000 booth wool festivals, countless knitting stores, huge variety of yarn and lively social groups.
Either way, it makes me feel a bit pathetic and gullible. And that maybe the expectations that the online community raises is just spoiling the simple pleasure of knitting.
I also read every single post, but I feel weird about commenting.
I love all your photos.
Hey! I’m reading! And I always enjoy it. I’ve been a bit lax on the commenting lately, haven’t I?
I really enjoy blogging, even though I’m not the best writer (and certainly not the best photographer) in the world. It’s annoying when people don’t comment, but I think I’d still blog anyway. It helps me feel a part of the whole ‘online knitting community’, even if I’m an extremely small and insignificant part of it.
If I lived in Melbourne, I’d go roadtripping and podcasting with you. Totally. Speakng of which, whatever happened to the podcast you planned?
And I, too, am jealous of the US/Canadian knitters. Very, very jealous.
Your Secret (for another week, anyway) Pal
I don’t read every day… Maybe I should.
I blog for myself. I have long since realised that my blog, as it contains so many other things in my life, like yours does, is not going to be something that will be vote winning with any US knitting web-ring. (Web-rings seemsto be a good way of getting readers to find your blog anyway.)
I have also discovered that the things that get commented on often bear little relationship to how much the reader appreciates them.
Finally, if you keep posting all this gorgeous knitting, it gets tiring to comment “That’s so gorgeous!!!” and “Oooh, so pretty” all the time without feeling just a bit repetitive and maybe a touch stoopid.
Hugs.
Have you ever looked at the stats on the knitting forums? The rate of responses left compared to number of views can be as little as 3%.
If you really need to know people read it, get a counter. I have the one with the flags as I’m fascinated by how many nationalities read my blog.
Write this for yourself, using your voice, as you have always done. This is just a flat spot.
You have so much to offer this community. And don’t forget, Australia has a much smaller population than the US/Canada.
My local knitting group consists of two LOL!
I totally know how you feel you only have to look at the comments i’m not getting to see i understand but i would like to think that there is someone out there that likes what they see.
I lurve a spot of existentialist angst over breakfast!
Never mind, I feel the same way sometimes, but I keep doing it because I feel that it validates me, to me, by seeing pictures (in particular) of what I have done.
Are we not all voices in the wilderness?
Sorry we discontinued the Box Hill meets, but after I started studying on Fridays no-one could come to an agreement on another suitable day. Sad, but there it is. If you are ever in the mood to traipse to Box Hill on a Friday lunchtime I have managed one lunchtime meet in the seedy cafe next door to the TAFE! (And then you get to buy cffee from Kelvin with the lipgloss, who is famous throughout swathes of Melbourne!)
Look, you could just post pics of the cat looking cute and nothing else, and you’d still have something interesting there (that SOME PEOPLE read regularly at least!!!)
Hugs – you sound like you need some.
Lack of comments doesn’t mean lack of readers. I am hopeless at commenting sometimes, but I still read all of my favourite blogs!
Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are you stop blogging, you hear??
Awww thanks, Secret Pal. I’d love to go on that road trip – though with your uncanny ability to know exactly what yarn tempts me I suspect you’d be quite a dangerous stash enhancement enabler to be around.
Hey – Girlyjones reads my blog as well as my LJ!
Fitnit – hmm, unfortunately my nerdy friends revealed how inaccurate counters are to me years ago, but the idea of checking stats of visits is a good one.
Kylie – a new commenter! Welcome! Hey, that kittybed story on your blog is so painfully funny.
Sheep rustler – that cafe sounds delightfully, um, atmospheric. Unfortunately I still have the whole working on weekdays problem to get around.
Peeve – wimper… whatever you say, oh great goddess of Peevishness.