I don’t know about you, but I have difficulty getting people to read my articles. If people can’t see them, they can’t read them. I share my stories on Facebook, X, and my blog, Steve Sovie’s World. I also tell my friends whenever I publish something they may be interested in.
I hardly ever get any results from sharing on X. Using Facebook, I see a little better results, but nothing great. I recently started a Newsletter to promote my stories within Medium. So far, I haven’t seen any results. For some reason, people click on the Medium subscribe icon instead of my huge Newsletter subscribe image.
When I tell my friends that I write on Medium, they say they have no idea what Medium is. No one I have ever talked to, either in my family, my neighbors, my long-time friends, or former colleagues, has ever heard of Medium. Why is that?
I consider most of my friends to be well-educated and informed, and many of them are avid readers. But they have no idea of what Medium is. Therefore, I not only have to convince them to read my articles but also to join Medium to do so. Convincing people to shell out money to read is the most difficult part.
After some thought about this matter, I have decided to change the way I promote my articles. While I promote my stories, I will also promote Medium. If people make the connection between my stories and Medium, they might be enticed to join Medium. It’s worth a try.
I would love to hear your thoughts about what I have written and what I intend to do.
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I went to bed around 11 p.m. last night, but I knew it was over. I thought maybe a miracle would happen while I slept. I didn’t sleep well, and a miracle didn’t happen. When I woke up, I dreaded seeing the confirmation of my worst fears blasted all over the Internet. But I was prepared but heartbroken.
In the morning, I checked my Medium stats. There was little activity, and I wondered why. I saw a few stories where people shared their feelings about the country’s loss. I also saw a couple of stories joking about the loss—yes, from white privileged males.
For a while, I debated whether or not to write about my feelings after Trump’s win. I wasn’t sure what to say or if it was worth saying. Then, I became a little paranoid. Because I have been critical of Trump in the past, would writing another article move me up the list of those he seeks revenge on? It’s probably too late now.
I don’t know when the retribution begins or when the mass deportations start. Returning from the grocery store, I saw a Guatemalan woman walking on the sidewalk with her child. I wondered to myself how much time they had left to live here. We have a small community of Guatemalan immigrants living in our area. I’m sure they will soon disappear.
I know Trump wants to dismantle the government, but that should take some time. Hopefully, my husband and I will be safe. I don’t think our marriage will be nullified for some time, even though Alito and Thomas have plans to do just that.
What I worry about the most is the loss of Social Security and Medicare, both of which have been targeted by Trump, Speaker Johnson, and the rest of the GOP. They have tried to weaken or destroy it before, but now they have the votes and the Presidency to do it.
The people who have the most to fear are women, especially poor women of color, who cannot afford healthcare. Community centers serving such women, as well as poor members of the LGBTQ community, will lose their funding and slowly disappear. This will eventually cause a rise in homelessness.
I won’t mention how the map of Europe could change. When Trump lets Putin annex it, there may be one less country on the continent. Will Taiwan be next?
I’ve been through one Trump administration and survived. Now that he has near complete immunity, things will be different. I have no confidence or respect for the Supreme Court, the Justice System, or Congress to do the right thing. We are in this mess because of them. I used to believe that no man is above the law and that this country is a beacon for freedom, but no longer.
I’m sure half of this country is as happy as I was when Biden won in 2020. That half has demonstrated they prefer racism, hate, bigotry, and misogyny over democracy. I hope they get what they voted for. I will only say, “I told you so.”
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When I was a young child, I had severe asthma, and it seemed like I was allergic to everything, especially animals. This was particularly difficult for me because I loved animals. When I went to an allergist at about 6, I discovered I was allergic to all animals with hair, fur, and feathers. To me, this was very cruel. I didn’t accept this and constantly begged my mother for a pet. I began to have weekly allergy shots, averaging about 6 shots per week, to desensitize me to everything I was allergic to. I took these shots for about ten years.
I can remember pleading with my mother to allow me to go to the Jefferson County Fair every summer, knowing full well that I would suffer an asthma attack because of the presence of the cattle and poultry exhibits. But I went anyway and always had an attack. I was even allergic to my cousins, who lived on a farm. I couldn’t have my cousin Jeff spend the night with me because I would have an attack.
I had a cat and the occasional hamster, which didn’t bother me much. I also had many turtles, snakes, lizards, fish, an alligator, and just about everything else that didn’t have fur or feathers.
There was one animal that did not have hair, or so I thought, and I really wanted one. This was an elephant. I lived in a small town, and we didn’t have an elephant at the zoo. I could only watch them on an old TV show, Marlin Perkin’s “Wild Kingdom”.
As time went on, my asthma subsided, and I was finally free to have more pets. I finally got a dog during high school, and we also had a cat. After graduating and getting a job in Boston, I got a dog, fish, and parrot. But secretly, I still wanted an elephant. I also began to develop a love for tigers. I knew I could never have either.
One of my best vacations was in Thailand. The highlights of that trip were a visit to an elephant sanctuary and a tiger farm. At the elephant sanctuary, I got close to elephants and even rode one for an hour. I was in heaven. After that, I wanted one even more.
When I visited the tiger farm, I held a six-month-old tiger cub. It was fantastic. Then, I was able to stand next to and pet a full-grown tiger. I really didn’t realize how big tigers were! After this experience, I gave up the idea of having a tiger as a pet. They are really beautiful animals, but they should never be kept as pets.
Me with a tiger cub in Thailand.
We should all strive to protect them in the wild. Sometime after this experience, I was saddened by the news that the tigers at the tiger farm had to be destroyed because of the bird flu that struck Asia then. However, I still desired to have an elephant and even fantasized about moving to Thailand to buy a house where I could have an elephant and hire a mahout to care for him.
I have visited Asia several times, including Chengdu, China, where I held a six-month-old panda. Shortly after my visit, the area suffered a major catastrophic earthquake, which traumatized many pandas.
I admire the WWF's work with the pandas in China. In 2007, I retired from my job in Boston and moved to Malaysia. The only elephants in Malaysia are found in Borneo, which is quite far from where I lived. I still wanted an elephant, even though I realized it was impossible.
At least in Malaysia, I didn’t have far to travel to see them in Borneo or Thailand. I had already visited the elephants in Thailand and, of course, the zoos in Malaysia. I had to settle for elephant souvenirs and figurines instead of the real thing. I still hold out hope that one day I will become filthy rich and be able to care for one!
I consider myself very lucky to have been able to interact with so many of the beautiful animals that I love. I now have two Quaker parrots, a saltwater aquarium, and my best buddy, Cato, who would be extremely jealous if I had another pet.
My buddy Cato, the Cattle Dog
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Oh my God! It’s November already. Halloween is over, and Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Day will soon be here. Worst yet, my birthday will soon follow. This March will be my 77th.
I enjoy the holiday season, but not as much as when I was younger. I can remember waiting for the holidays and my birthday. It seemed as though they would take forever to come. Not now, though. They come way too quickly.
As I get older, my enjoyment of the holidays is clouded by the thought that there probably won’t be that many more for me to celebrate. I think of all of the past holidays I have celebrated. Some were more joyous than others, but I always looked forward to the next one.
I can’t celebrate like I used to. I can’t drink anymore, but on the bright side, I don’t have wicked hangovers anymore. I can’t eat as much, even though I try. I gain more weight than when I was younger because I am not as active. My parents, some family members, and friends are gone, but I still have the memories.
I love celebrating the holidays with my husband, our dog, my brother and sister-in-law, our niece, and our great neighbors. I am making new memories.
As I have grown older I have become much more sensitive to those people who are less fortunate than I, and have little to celebrate. My joy is often accompanied by depression because there is little I can do for them. I am just thankful that people are more generous and kind during the holiday season, even though they soon forget.
I don’t always look forward to the holiday season but always feel sad when it’s gone. I feel sad because I know I may not have that many more holidays to come. I also feel sad that the feelings of love and kindness that are symbolic during the holiday season are gone for another year.
But I don’t dwell on my future or how many celebrations I may have left. I enjoy seeing other people sharing their joy and happiness, many for the first time. I also feel fortunate that I have had a long lifetime of warm and happy holidays, something that too many people much younger than I have not had. I feel grateful for the time I have had, and I hope for more.
We all must count our blessings and live our lives to the fullest, and we must do this every day, not just during the holidays.
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While the media was reeling over Joe Biden calling Trump supporters garbage, Trump and his supporters proved why this statement is true.
Last night at a rally in Milwaukee, in response to a malfunctioning microphone, Donald J. Trump, former President and current presidential candidate, sexually stroked his microphone and then mimicked performing oral sex on the mic as his adoring supporters gleefully giggled in agreement.
America, this is the clown you see at a raucous, debauchery-filled stag party attended by post-pubescent drunks trying to prove their manhood. This is the lounge lizard MAGA wants as their President. Is this something you can be proud of? God, I hope not.
If you haven’t already voted, show your patriotism and your maturity and reject this sad excuse for a human being. Kamala Harris will not embarrass us on the world stage.
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If you’ve been writing on Medium for a while, you have seen many writers complaining about their stats and earnings. I am one of those many writers who have done their fair share of bitching. The responses to writers experiencing lackadaisical earnings and stats include the phrase,” We’re in the same boat.” I have said that myself. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that this phrase is inaccurate, at least in my situation.
People on Medium write for several reasons. Some who publish here earn substantial money, which is an excellent part-time income. They most likely also write for other publications or are accomplished novelists or journalists.
These writers are not novice writers, for the most part. They have many years of experience and have a formal journalism or writing education. I’m not saying they all possess these unique qualities, but most likely, the majority do. They have a solid foundation to shore up their writing. They know what works and what doesn’t. They don’t have to chase the numbers like other less experienced writers. To put this in nautical terms, they are aboard a large, sturdy, seaworthy vessel of experience to traverse the vast ocean called Medium. They are in one huge luxurious boat.
Now, for the majority of writers here, it is a different story. Some use Medium as a side hustle to earn extra income to support their families. They don’t have vast experience or formal training but have skills and ambition. They spend a lot of time on Medium, writing, publishing, reading, and commenting. It’s almost like a full-time job. It’s hard work for little compensation. These writers are in a different boat, not as prominent as the luxurious liner, perhaps more like a sailboat. When the winds are favorable, they have smooth sailing.
Then, some writers don’t write for the money. They could care less about their earnings. They write for the love of writing and are happy only to have someone read and appreciate their work. They are floating along the ocean on a comfortable raft close to the shore, not caring where they go.
Others, like myself, write on Medium as a hobby, with the extra benefit of earning a little money. We don’t spend as much time on the site and don’t feel compelled to be here all day. We write when we feel like it. We don’t make a hell of a lot of money, but again, we don’t need to. Yet we still rant and rave in those times when we aren’t earning much. We are all in another type of boat, a pleasure craft. We don’t go boating every day. Just when the weather is good, and we have the time.
Lastly, some writers on Medium want to make a lot of money but don’t necessarily know what they are doing. They join, write, and publish without assuring their work is correctly punctuated and with acceptable spelling and grammar. They don’t read the work of others, nor do they comment unless it is a nonsensical, irrelevant, sparsely worded response. These people are aboard an unseaworthy dingy riddled with holes. They meander at sea until the boat sinks, and they swim away, giving up on their voyage.
Other boats on this Medium ocean are not engaged in a safe and pleasurable cruise. They are pirate ships whose only aim is to steal from all the legitimate sailors at sea. They fly not under the skull and crossbones flag but under AI flags. There are no humans aboard these ships, Only artificial beings pretending to be humans to plunder our hard-earned rewards.
So, I will no longer use the terminology of being in the same boat. We are not all in the same boat. We are on the same ocean but in different boats.
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When asked what they like to read, people say fiction, nonfiction, science fiction, mysteries, poetry, etc. Naturally, their favorite authors are those who write in their favorite genre. When writers, especially novice writers, join Medium, they try to emulate their favorite authors or try something different.
We all remember how excited we were to tell family and friends that we started writing on Medium and how they asked, “What’s that?” We then explain how Medium lets us write about anything we want.
After we’ve been joyfully toiling daily to produce what we think are masterpieces of literature, we realize something. No one is reading our stories. We search the Medium site for answers. We see all kinds of advice. We need more followers. We need to publish more often. We need to engage more. Reinvigorated, we get right to it. And still, no one reads our work.
We begin to look around and see who the more successful writers are, the ones who get the most attention and earn the most money, at least according to them. We discover a new genre of writing that only some people outside of Medium have ever heard of: writing about Medium itself!
We begin to realize that most of those articles we searched for advice are very popular. We also realize that the one article we wrote about our questions or frustrations with Medium was our most popular and lucrative article. A light goes on. Why not devote all my attention to writing about Medium?
To hell with becoming another Hemingway, Grisham, or King. We can become famous writers in the new writing genre called Medium. So, now, when friends ask what kind of articles we write? We can proudly say, “I write about Medium?” And then laugh all the way to the bank.
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