SimonDoom
Kink Lord
- Joined
- Apr 9, 2015
- Posts
- 18,869
I want to say a few words in honor of the "invisible fan."
The invisible fan is the person who reads your story and enjoys it. But they don't let you know it. They don't vote. They don't comment. They don't text or email you to let you know how much they liked your story. But if you give it a little thought, you know that they are out there, and their satisfaction is just as real as that of the person who left you a nice comment.
Suppose you write a story and it has 7,000 views. It has 100 votes, with a score of 4.5. That means at least 50 people liked your story enough to give it a perfect 5. But the reality is that far more than that liked your story but never let you know it. It made them smile. Maybe it made them come. Maybe they liked it so much they read it again. And again. Maybe it recalled happy memories of something that happened to them. Maybe, even, it inspired them to try to write their own story.
I have no idea how many such fans I have, but I know they're out there, and I know, even with my rather limited math skills, that they far outnumber the "visible" fans. If my story has 7000 views and 100 votes and a score of 4.5, and if even one tenth the people who "viewed" my story actually read it the whole way through, then based on the score I can estimate that there are at least a few hundred people out there in the world who liked my story.
That's nice to know. We get so wrapped up in the numbers, which are just abstractions, that we forget that behind them are real people, many of whom may have treasured our story but never let us know it. Knowing that they exist gives me a sense of satisfaction.
Don't judge or dismiss readers who don't vote or comment on your story.
The point of publication is not to accumulate abstract numbers but to connect your story with real people who appreciate it. Most of those people are "invisible." But their satisfaction counts too, and if you think about it you can get satisfaction, as well, from knowing they are out there, looking forward, invisibly, to your next story.
The invisible fan is the person who reads your story and enjoys it. But they don't let you know it. They don't vote. They don't comment. They don't text or email you to let you know how much they liked your story. But if you give it a little thought, you know that they are out there, and their satisfaction is just as real as that of the person who left you a nice comment.
Suppose you write a story and it has 7,000 views. It has 100 votes, with a score of 4.5. That means at least 50 people liked your story enough to give it a perfect 5. But the reality is that far more than that liked your story but never let you know it. It made them smile. Maybe it made them come. Maybe they liked it so much they read it again. And again. Maybe it recalled happy memories of something that happened to them. Maybe, even, it inspired them to try to write their own story.
I have no idea how many such fans I have, but I know they're out there, and I know, even with my rather limited math skills, that they far outnumber the "visible" fans. If my story has 7000 views and 100 votes and a score of 4.5, and if even one tenth the people who "viewed" my story actually read it the whole way through, then based on the score I can estimate that there are at least a few hundred people out there in the world who liked my story.
That's nice to know. We get so wrapped up in the numbers, which are just abstractions, that we forget that behind them are real people, many of whom may have treasured our story but never let us know it. Knowing that they exist gives me a sense of satisfaction.
Don't judge or dismiss readers who don't vote or comment on your story.
The point of publication is not to accumulate abstract numbers but to connect your story with real people who appreciate it. Most of those people are "invisible." But their satisfaction counts too, and if you think about it you can get satisfaction, as well, from knowing they are out there, looking forward, invisibly, to your next story.