It's probably the height of narcissism, but I get a small thrill every time I someone clicks "like" on one of my Facebook posts. In fact, I sorta hold my breath each time I post something until someone, anyone--usually my mom--"likes" what I have to say. Even if all I'm offering at the moment is "Had pad thai for lunch. YUMMY!"
So, imagine my thrill when I went to Skirt! magazine's site today. I was rereading their contributor guidelines and then ended up searching my byline to look at some essays I'd written for them a couple years ago.
"Tobacco and Clay," an essay I'd written (through a lot of tears) about my dad has 10,251 page views. The other one, "Working in a Cathouse," about an abusive relationship I went through has 20,889. Wow. (Even if my mom was the only one reading it, she still had to click more than 20,000 times.) Made me realize that even if people aren't comfortable talking about or commenting on the tough subjects, they're interested in reading about them. And I'm good with that.
