When I put out the Gone Fishin’ sign last week, I intended to do not much of anything for the next seven days. As I told my sweetie, Team Anne Glynn was in sore need of a little rest and relaxation. I didn’t want us to do any story plotting (I unintentionally failed at that in the middle of the first night, waking up to jot a few notes) or writing (I caught Glynn at the word processor by Day Two) or editing (Day Four, both of us, and there’s clearly something wrong with Team Anne Glynn’s ability to unwind).
But, secretly, there was one little something else I wanted to do during that week. I wanted to find someone to improve this website.
Not that there’s anything specifically wrong with the site. I just wanted it to be better, maybe a little slicker. A little less homemade. I couldn’t help but notice that some of the other writers I follow have stepped up their game – offering all kinds of things on their sites. There are videos on their sites, and audio links, and most of them have let it be known that you can follow them via almost every aspect of social media. Glynn and I are falling behind. I knew we needed to do better.
My reasoning was, if I personally enjoyed videos and audio links, and stuff like that, most other people would, too. Why shouldn’t I offer such things here?
With this rather vague-ish goal in mind, I contacted a web designer, gave him our budget, and never heard from him again. Shortly thereafter, I contacted a different web designer, cleverly avoided sharing our financial status, and he was nice enough to respond almost immediately. He quickly determined that, while I might love cute cat videos, I didn’t have any. He also discovered that even if I enjoyed audio links, I was rather picky about them and, so, didn’t intend to use them. Then, we discussed my aversion to social media.
He asked, “You said you don’t currently do Instagram or Twitter or Facebook or any of the old school stuff?”
I hadn’t realized any of that “stuff” was already considered old school. Did that mean there was another, more cutting edge, option out there? If there was, I suspected I needed it ASAP.
Unless it was expensive. All I told the web guy was, “I lurk.”
“But you’ll be signing up? Posting something most days?”
"How much do most people post?"
“Most average about an hour a day, give or take.”
"Every day? When do they have time to write?”
My friend Sue puts seven to ten hours a week into her various social media outlets, but she’s at her word processor on a full-time basis. Most days, I fight for any time to work on our projects. Maybe I'm spending too much time watching cat videos.
That's when the tech wizard told me, "You know, I think your website’s fine. It does its job. If I were you, I'd leave it alone.”
Which is what Glynn had told me, too, before I reached out to the web expert. And maybe both of them were right. After all our visitor count climbs a little each week and our newsletter is expanding its audience. But slowly, so slowly.
Besides, by now I wanted something to be done. Just because. (I do understand how that sounds. But still….)
“Let me try,” Glynn said, before rolling up his sleeves and tackling the mysteries that are part of a drag-and-drop website. When he was done doing his part, I rolled up my sleeves, too, working on some of the images that now sit at the top of our pages.
If you’ve been through the site before, you’ll probably notice the changes. We now have a specific page dedicated to our latest release; its header includes a picture of our cat, Zorro, back when he was a kitten. To me, it’s just as cute as some cat videos. There’s an improved Books & Such page, with clickable links on each image. On the last page, we no longer ask people to join our email list. We actually direct visitors to our newsletter sign-up form.
It's not the best website ever, I know that, but I like it. I feel much better.
But, secretly, there was one little something else I wanted to do during that week. I wanted to find someone to improve this website.
Not that there’s anything specifically wrong with the site. I just wanted it to be better, maybe a little slicker. A little less homemade. I couldn’t help but notice that some of the other writers I follow have stepped up their game – offering all kinds of things on their sites. There are videos on their sites, and audio links, and most of them have let it be known that you can follow them via almost every aspect of social media. Glynn and I are falling behind. I knew we needed to do better.
My reasoning was, if I personally enjoyed videos and audio links, and stuff like that, most other people would, too. Why shouldn’t I offer such things here?
With this rather vague-ish goal in mind, I contacted a web designer, gave him our budget, and never heard from him again. Shortly thereafter, I contacted a different web designer, cleverly avoided sharing our financial status, and he was nice enough to respond almost immediately. He quickly determined that, while I might love cute cat videos, I didn’t have any. He also discovered that even if I enjoyed audio links, I was rather picky about them and, so, didn’t intend to use them. Then, we discussed my aversion to social media.
He asked, “You said you don’t currently do Instagram or Twitter or Facebook or any of the old school stuff?”
I hadn’t realized any of that “stuff” was already considered old school. Did that mean there was another, more cutting edge, option out there? If there was, I suspected I needed it ASAP.
Unless it was expensive. All I told the web guy was, “I lurk.”
“But you’ll be signing up? Posting something most days?”
"How much do most people post?"
“Most average about an hour a day, give or take.”
"Every day? When do they have time to write?”
My friend Sue puts seven to ten hours a week into her various social media outlets, but she’s at her word processor on a full-time basis. Most days, I fight for any time to work on our projects. Maybe I'm spending too much time watching cat videos.
That's when the tech wizard told me, "You know, I think your website’s fine. It does its job. If I were you, I'd leave it alone.”
Which is what Glynn had told me, too, before I reached out to the web expert. And maybe both of them were right. After all our visitor count climbs a little each week and our newsletter is expanding its audience. But slowly, so slowly.
Besides, by now I wanted something to be done. Just because. (I do understand how that sounds. But still….)
“Let me try,” Glynn said, before rolling up his sleeves and tackling the mysteries that are part of a drag-and-drop website. When he was done doing his part, I rolled up my sleeves, too, working on some of the images that now sit at the top of our pages.
If you’ve been through the site before, you’ll probably notice the changes. We now have a specific page dedicated to our latest release; its header includes a picture of our cat, Zorro, back when he was a kitten. To me, it’s just as cute as some cat videos. There’s an improved Books & Such page, with clickable links on each image. On the last page, we no longer ask people to join our email list. We actually direct visitors to our newsletter sign-up form.
It's not the best website ever, I know that, but I like it. I feel much better.
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