I recently did a talk at some trendy media event with the Huffington Post’s Editor-in-Chief Carla Buzasi. I said a few pointless things about nothing in particular and then she gave a brilliant and incisive run-down of what does and does not work in the blog world. (She has literally thousands of bloggers on her books. If she says something about blogging, it’s probably correct.)
Anyway, she told the audience that it is not good enough to have a blog lapse and then post something lame about how you were ‘on holiday’ or ‘too busy.’ By then your readers will already have written you off as a lazy cock and are unlikely ever to read your page again. Possibly, they will even hate you.*
I wasn’t sure, therefore, if I should offer an explanation or apology for my crappy blogging over Xmas (or complete lack of blogging, to be precise) but I am unable to stop myself from yelling – with deep despair and rage – that I WROTE A GREAT BLOG ABOUT 2012 AND IT EVEN HAD PICTURES AND THEN THE KNOBBING STUPID THING JUST DISAPPEARED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH AND I HAD TO ADMIT DEFEAT AND START AGAIN.
So please be aware that this blog was originally better, longer and funnier. AND IT HAD PICTURES, I-
Robinson. BE QUIET.
So here is my radically reduced hitlist and shitlist for 2012. Really, it covers little beyond Christmas which is all I can remember now.
1. Straight in at Number 1, obvs, is the fact that I became a published author and that lots of people loved my book. It got published in no less than SEVEN countries and I found out the other day that I was the second most successful debut within my genre in 2012. Although I’m not sure how I feel about that. ‘I’m SECOND BEST!’ It just sounds . . . a bit sad. But I’ll take it anyway.
One of the most amusing things about the publication of my first book was that although the reviews were mostly fab, there were a few people who got really cross about the amount of swearing that went on. And the thing is, readers: I DIDN’T HAVE THE FAINTEST IDEA I HAD BEEN SWEARING. I wrote the most sweary book in the history of chicklit and didn’t even realise. I must study the wholesome output of my peers and in the hope that I will learn to speak proper. Bad Robinson!
2. You see, this is why I am so cross about losing my original hitlist/shitlist blog. I can’t remember anything else. I know it was a good year! I know it! Hmmm… Oh, yes, there was Christmas. That was good. All the usual nice things but with the added bonus of my parents’ animals, who made me laugh so much I couldn’t eat my lunch. First there was Milly the kitten, who in spite of being about two minutes old, was humping EVERYTHING THAT MOVED, especially my thigh. She spent five days making weird noises and frotting hard. It was gross, and very funny. She’s still pint-sized! Look at that innocent little face! Who taught her about sex? And why didn’t they tell her that it should never be attempted with her owners?
Then Grouse the dog, sitting under a little camping table that had been added on to the main one to accommodate more guests, started to get depressed that nobody had fed him anything in the last five minutes. He started sighing from underneath the table.
The sighs got louder and more frequent. Then – like any decent Labrador – he became suicidal. After a sigh of total devastation he got up and wandered forlornly out of the dining room, taking the table and turkey with him.
It was supreme. I do just love Grouse so much. He is a total knobhead. Even when he’s trying to be deeply tragic he is still the funniest person in the room.
And that’s literally all I can remember about the good bits. Appalling.
1. The Snowman and his stupid Snowdog. I can’t write too much about this because I will get angry. But in my view Channel 4 confirmed themselves as arbiters of the very worst taste this Christmas by ditching the beautiful, lovely, moving Snowman and replacing it with this blob of un-special, un-moving and chronically mediocre rubbish. Yeah yeah. They played the real Snowman the weekend before Christmas. But it was hidden, like a sad relic, among unimportant programmes. It was not celebrated. It will be deliberately forgotten and this crock of shit will take over. Soon children will not know the soft and insidious beauty of the opening chords of Walking in the Air. Shame on you, Channel 4. NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS ‘UPDATING,’ YOU FOOLS. Think of all those nauseating pink women banging on about vintage lace and cupcakes at the moment. WE LIKE NOSTALGIA.
2. New Year’s Eve. I had such a great costume! And the whole thing only cost me seventeen pounds. (I won’t tell you about it because I’m determined to wear it soon but please believe me when I say it was the BEST.)
But then I dislocated my rib again, got a cold and spent the night alone in bed. The Man had to go out dressed as a mummy all on his own, which was a bit worrying because his outfit could (although only if you were looking for trouble) appear to be more Ku Klux Klan than Egyptian corpse. And then the next day The Man was just a smelly ball of pain and we didn’t even have any fun food in the house to cheer me up. We ate 3 week old kale with partially defrosted turkey breasts. And a sprinkling of rock-hard cheddar. Sad times.
So yes, that’s it. That’s all I can remember.
Which means that I think I can safely chuck this blog straight in as the first entry in my 2013 shitlist.
Fortunately, I have lots of exciting things coming up to blog about. Not least my NEW BOOK WHICH IS OUT IN LESS THAN A MONTH ARGHGHHH etc.
Happy New Year!
*I said that last bit. Not her.