Saturday, 30 April 2011

Commenting - good practice... and bad!

Now when I first started blogging, I was quite confident that I wouldn't be a blogger who comments, you know "that's just not me" - I preferred the voyeuristic approach to blogging. But strangely enough, I have become a serial commenter and I think I know how it happened.

After a glass of red wine, I broke the seal commenting on pretty in print,  (a blog that is delectably cool), I felt the need to explain why I was following her twice - something I actually could not explain, or rectify, and has happened to a few of the blogs I follow. However, that had plunged me into commenting territory, a place I had previously been afraid of. It's the whole not knowing who you're talking to that freaks me out; will they get my humour? Or just find me weird? But there I was treading water in the pools of uncertainty. But she replied, thanked me for the compliment  and… started to follow me - my first follower (who wasn't related to me) she even left some complimentary comments on my blog, and that was all it took. I was hooked!

As the very witty and accomplished blogger Miss Underscore said 'It's often the comments and interaction that is the most rewarding thing about blogging.' which I am discovering to be very true.

Sometimes, I read something that makes me howl, chuckle, gasp or I read something that stays with me for days, so I’m logging on in the early hours just to re-read it, to let it sink in all over again. When that happens I have this desire to tell the writer how they just made me feel something new… Or just to find a way to thank them. That’s why I comment. Fore me, Blogging has something that all those English seminars were missing.

This week, I have found myself commenting more and more, but what's been brilliant is the other comments I've discovered - I have found myself creased in two at the lap top by some of the commenting - a whole new dimension to the hilarity of blogging.

Some of my favourites - the good and the bad:

At 14 weeks pregnant, the rather brilliant  Sassy Curmudgeon shared her concerns with becoming a "Mummy Blogger"  and commenting war fare broke out

Anonymous said...
I am one of those who are a little worried, simply because I personally have no interest in parenting.
Just...please, for the love of god..don't give us a graphic play-by-play of your birthing process like so many other blogs I've stopped reading. I unsubscribe at the term "mucous plug".

Erin said...
"I don't get why people (anonymously) are expressing their "worry" over the content of your blog. It's *your* blog, that you generously use to entertain us out of the goodness of your heart. Do what feels natural for you!"

@EllenQ, I commented anonymously because my work computer would not allow me to post a comment any other way. She asked for our opinions; I gave mine. I'm not sorry that it doesn't 100% agree with yours.

At this point Sassy had to step in... but without her wise words, who knows where this was going? Only to a place where the prefix "mother-" and suffix "-head" were waiting!

Parma Violet Tea has the igenious ability to include witty sexual innuendoes with a breeze of subtlety and a sprinkle of eloquence. Shame her commenters can't do the same. In this post Miss U was questioning the BMW driver's failure to use indicators and what that said about their sexual technique.

Anonymous said...
Perhaps you could trade your Ford in for a tea'd certainly get scrappage, although you'd probably need to make up the cash difference! Poor old Henry Ford. Any colour as long as it's...RUST! As far as signalling is concerned; I know exactly where the little-indicator-in-the boat is located; and I always let the lady turn first!

Dear God! This was a genteel post about tea cosies and afternoon tea! Anon y Mouse - jump in your BMW fanny wagon and take your smut elsewhere.

Well said Miss Underscore. Well said!

My final "stolen" comments come from Tired Dad's blog, as he is so bloody popular  this leads to its own hang ups. Firstly, some “Anonymous” cretins decided to use his commenting space for some free advertising

Tired Dad said…
Fuck off Anonymous

Anonymous continued, more than once.

Tired Dad said…
Fuck off anonymous twice.

Which encouraged his followers to start abusing Anonymous. Brilliant example of blogging solidarity. Loved it!

Secondly, when blogging about internet dating, the air of romance crept into Tired Dad’s comment box!
Anonymous said...
I was going to comment and protest that I thought you were quite dreamy, until I realized it's probably just that I have the crippling self esteem issues necessary to find you attractive.

A little banter sarted to trickle in until Non-working Monkey said Blogging Love is good, but it sometimes leads to emigration!

As you well know, TD, I used to write a blog about internet dating (which is of course excellent), gave it up, then met my HUSBAND through the blog I started afterwards. He was a commentaterer. I'm just saying. Be careful. Idle chitchat in comments boxes can result in selling all your stuff in the yoo-kay and moving to Montreal, nose pressed against the window night after night as temperatures fall to -32 and cats freeze to the pavement.

I was delighted by this! Ever a romantic and a recent follower of NON-WORKINGMONKEY blog, I had no idea that was how she ended up in Canada - a blog fairy-tale!

Amongst all this comedy thoough there is something else I'm struggling with in commenting world. There's some blogs you can't comment on. They catch you in your throat and pinch the tears from your eyes; you can't mechanically type what they just made you feel. A sadness that is captured by poetic beauty is one I try not to cry over, but usually fail - The Safrole Tree. Instead I carry this blog around with me, re-running the imagery in my head, hearing his broken voice filled with the dampness of tears, wishing no one had to write about a pain like this, but being thankful that he can.


  1. I still probably prefer the "voyeuristic approach to blogging" as I still get a bit scared commenting on people's blogs. It's like someone leaving the door of their house open and you just walking in - I would never do that in real life. Even with a clear invite I would be standing outside wondering what to do! Blogging appeals to me because I'm terribly socially awkward but commenting requires a fair bit of social confidence. At the same time it is one of the most delightful aspects of blogging - it's how I've discovered new blogs, witty voices, like-minded souls and even made some friends. I should probably try doing it a bit more!

  2. I think you've summed it up - it doesn't matter how you do it, just do it your own way - that's what's at the heart of blogging - the freedom it offers.

  3. I have all the social grace of a sentient pineapple so each comment, much like proper conversation, requires ten minutes to steel my nerves and ideally some kind of hard liquor. However, blogging doesn't seem to cause the same problem, perhaps because I tell myself no one is reading. Although that's getting harder to do because delightful people like yourself keep mentioning me (and in such wonderful company). All this is a long-winded and inept way of saying - thank you, I am utterly flattered and completely embarrassed.

  4. Well, thank you for writing. After studying English, then teaching English, I am conditioned to praising good writing. I struggle to read something that impacts me without sharing. Your blog is incredibly moving; its imagery and the rawness of the content. I admire how you write about these intimate emotions with such poise. I hope one day you find this strength elsewhere.