Another thing that is recommended to increase followers is social media. I don’t have Facebook or Instagram. But I do have Twitter, LinkedIn and Pinterest. They are linked to my WordPress account so all my posts get shared there automatically.
When I was running my business, word- of- mouth was how I got my clients. I also went businesses networking. Meeting people face- to- face and doing voluntary jobs got me clients. As a single mum, I wanted to make effective use of my time. So when I met someone I would let them know about my business. I didn’t let shyness stop me. I would ask them if they could make use of my services. Some said ‘yes’ some said ‘no’.
I wasn’t shy, but I was authentic.
It is the same with social media. Building an authentic relationship with people will help you reduce the amount of hours you spend on social media.
You are not going to become viral in one article. It takes dedication, patience and authenticity.
With so many people blogging nowadays and so much amazing content out there, how can a new blogger on WordPress get followers?
I’m still learning and I would like to get more followers, but how? I like to write my own thoughts. Original content is important to me. From my recent research on blogging it seems you need to post regularly at first in order to besuccessful. This worried me because I didn’t want my followers to be overwhelmed by my blogs in their inbox.
I thought about the problem and decided that the way forward was to post short content and publish it twice a week.
That way my followers were not snowed-under, and it gave me time to think about my blogs. A win-win situation. So, if you are new to blogging you might like to consider that.
The second piece of advice which I think is worthwhile is use your own images and photos. WordPress does have some free-to-use images,
and I have used them occasionally, but I think it is far more interesting for your followers if you use your own. That way your followers are tasting something of your life and experiences.
And then you have to decide the title of your post. This is a difficult one. You don’t have to decide straight away. Read through your post and think what title would reach out to me if this was some one else’s blog?The answer will come to you. My answer usually comes when I have left the article for a while.
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I was 21 years old when I moved to Leeds. I had no friends, I was penniless, and I didn’t know anybody in Leeds. I questioned the wisdom of my move and cried for many nights. I struck lucky when a recruitment agency got a full- time admin job for me at Leeds Magistrate Court.
The job was temporary, but it gave me hope that things would improve for me in my new location.
I used to walk to work every morning and back home every evening. As I walked home one evening, I saw someone walking their dog, and I thought ‘why don’t I get a dog to keep me company?’ So one Saturday I went to the nearest RSPCA to adopt a dog. When I got there I asked, ‘where do I leave the dog when I am at work so they don’t get too lonely?’ They gave me some useful advice, but just as I was being taken to choose a dog I spotted where they kept the cats. I was curious, so I asked if I could see the cats first. There was one there missing a back paw, another without an eye, and two healthy ones. I told the person who was showing me around that I wasn’t a cat person, I was just curious. I had never been allowed to have cats at home, and I was rather fearful of them. When they came close for me to stroke them, I was petrified. But one of the cats wasn’t interested, she was walking in the opposite direction from the others. I asked if cats needed a lot of maintenance, and was told ‘no’. So without a second thought I picked up the cat who showed no interest in me and she became mine. I named her Sonia. When I was young my best friend was called Sonia; my friend wasn’t a follower, she was a leader and that is how I saw my cat. Independent and strong, and I liked that.
When I took Sonia home for the first time, I put milk in a bowl and tuna to encourage her to come out of the carry- cage. When she finally came out she looked at me and that was the first time we looked at each other. Then she did the most amazing thing, she laid on her back so I could stroke her tummy. I was still fearful at this point, but I did it anyway. She got up, came to me and I carried her little body and placed her near her bowls so she could eat and drink. Sonia was just three- years- old. From that day on we were inseparable. She slept in bed with me, and I spoiled her as if she was my child. When my ex-husband proposed to me, I asked him to propose to my Sonia as well. I said if she meows then I will marry you. If she doesn’t then there’s no marriage. Luckily
she did, and we did get married, and I have three wonderful children from the marriage. Sonia knew all my children.
This February (2020) I knew in my heart and soul that she was leaving us. I was advised that the kindest thing would be to take her to the vets. I made appointments but kept cancelling them. Many years earlier I had a very vivid dream that Sonia and I were watching television. She meowed, sat on my lap and breathed her last.
So every time I booked a vet’s appointment I felt guilty, and that I was breaking the dream. I am glad I cancelled those vet’s appointments because on February 17th 2020 at 7:29pm Sonia and I were watching a movie called ‘ Blood and Bones’ on Amazon together. She was lying next to me when she died peacefully and naturally. She is buried in my garden. I want to say ‘ thank you, Sonia, for the great memories we shared.’
And that is why I have written this post.
* What do you think about this article ‘Sonia – will see you again’? Please share your thoughts in the comments below. Thank you for your time and support. I look forward to reading your comments. *
She gazed through the bedroom window. Angry clouds hurled every atom of their contents as if they had not a moment to lose in getting on with making the day as difficult as possible for another poor soul. She had to collect the children from school. As she summoned her resolve to move, the phone rang. Flying downstairs like a cat frightened by thunder she grabbed the phone terrified that she would be a second too late. She wasn’t. There was that bass voice, coming across the English Channel (or ‘La Manche’ as he had always insisted upon calling it). Trembling, she got her words out, ‘Jean-Pierre, how are you?’ ‘Oui, je vais bien. I am okay. Is this how you say it?’
She and Jean-Pierre had met on a week-end break in Paris. Love came quickly, and seeped away, step-by-tiny step when she was back home. Back home where she belonged with her children: Sam and Lisa.
Stepping off the flight from Paris that Sunday evening she believed it could work. But six months on she knew all was not well. It had become very costly. He never contributed financially. Broke, always broke. With two kids and no job, romance with a French artist was not exactly practical. Romantic, yes; practical, no. He was barely working. She was supporting him financially and resented it.
He did not understand why she had become distant.
‘You don’t want me now you are back to the UK?’ he said accusingly. He did rejection well. ‘Speak in French, don’t understand English well. Your French is good, okay?’ But her mind could hardly function in English never mind French. Last night she had taken her children shopping. On their return, dense choking fumes had emerged from under the bonnet getting into the car. It was dark, and it was terrifying. In the middle seemingly of nowhere and with no signal on her mobile. Her feeble but frantic attempts to attract the attention of the few passing motorists were studiously ignored. She could hardly blame them: a smoking car on an unlit country road, a wildly waving woman.
As she stood listening to Jean-Pierre, thoughts of the night before came flooding back. She recalled looking at her children on the back seat, little ones having every confidence that mummy would deal with the situation. She remembered image after terrifying image skidding across her mind like a series of nightmares. She closed her eyes as tightly as the skin on a drum praying as she had never prayed, ‘God, send your angels.’
She turned the key in the ignition. The engine reached within itself and found some life. The smoky fumes were still there, but life was also there. The smoking, groaning car made it back, just. Reaching the front of the house, knowing its job was done, sensing it had delivered its precious cargo, it stopped. The angels had carried out their assignment. Her evening slumbers had restored her perspective. She had spent the morning taking stock, and the car to the garage. The low-throated French voice asked ‘Are you still there, ma cherie? ‘ What sort of time was this to be thinking of love and romance? ‘Yes, I’m here.’ she replied, ‘ just thinking about the car, whether it can be fixed and how much they are going to charge me.’ ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be there to help you,’ he said, without conviction. ‘You know it’s over between us, right?’ she said sadly.
‘‘Why is it over?’ came the reply with a seeming sob.
‘ Our relationship is over, but you don’t want to believe it. You look for signs of life, but unlike my car’s engine, there is nothing to re-ignite. No life within to revive. Nothing to bring us safely home, nothing amidst the smoke and the fumes.’
She glanced at the clock. It showed at 3 pm. She was glad of the excuse to tell him that she had to go and collect the kids from school. She peered through the small window in the front door. It looked bleak but there were now breaks in the angry clouds.
‘Au revoir.’ she murmured
‘Yes, he said.
* What do you think about this short story ‘Au revoir’? Please share your thoughts in the comments below. Thank you for your time and support. I look forward to reading your comments. *