I’ve had this blog for less than a year, but this still seems like a good time to take stock. I have mixed feelings so far. I previously posted my film writing somewhere that’s hidden from search engines. It’s a social networking site, and so the people who had friended me tended to comment occasionally on my film reviews. Here I get almost no comments, even though Google Analytics tells me I probably have more readers here than I did at the other site. It probably doesn’t help that I long had it set up so that people had to register with WordPress to comment, nor that the settings keep reverting to that requirement when I’m not looking.
So all I really have for feedback is Google Analytics, which tells me that I’ve had 676 visitors in the past 30 days, of which which 569 are unique viewers, meaning around 100 are return visitors. About half of those come back fairly frequently. That seems like a decent readership to me, coming from the world of fanzines where a mailing list of 150 to 200 is typical. My peak number of visitors per 30 day period so far has been just over 800.
One of the main reasons I moved my film writing to this public blog is that I wanted people to be able to find my reviews via search engines. The thing that probably pleases me the most about the blog so far is that right now, months after they were originally posted, amongst the top ten most-visited pages are my reviews of Maurice Tourneur’s The Blue Bird (1918) and his son Jacques’ Canyon Passage (1946). If this blog encourages just a few people to watch either or both of those movies, or if what I’ve written (or the screencaps I’ve posted) are of interest to people who have already seen the movies, then it’s worth the effort and expense.
I’m still in the middle of a survey of Alan Rudolph’s films, so that should keep me engaged for the near future. We’ll see where it goes after that. I’d love to blog more about Sternberg (a DVD of Dishonored (1931) and Shanghai Express (1932) is coming out in February) and William Cameron Menzies and the movies of 1928 and 1932. As with all amateur writing, I suppose the big thing is whether I’m enjoying myself. Mostly I am.