900 Followers - Congratulations to you
You have good taste
In between luscious Chipotle burritos I noticed that my follower count exceeded 900. Should you find yourself a member of that exclusive group, congratulations.
Your decision to follow me improves the quality of your life. I'd like to reward you with valuable cash and prizes, but HubPages enforces strict regulations against payola, unlike Congress. Reading my writing certainly should serve are sufficient reward.
You might ask yourself, and you'd certainly be justified in doing so, where do we go from here? How can nicomp (me) maintain this torrid pace? What will he/she do next? How many uniquely quirky series of seemingly related Hubs are left to be discovered?
The answer is: I don't know. It's not as if I have all this stuff planned out in a SQL Server database or a Barbie Day Planner. It just kind-of pops out of my head on a semi-regular basis. Amazing, I know.
We travel together on this journey of composition, exposition, and juxtaposition. Hang on for the ride. Look forward to ever-increasing subtle volumes of genius emanating from my fingertips into your eyeballs via the Internet. I also plan to vary my sentence length.
A Writer Looks at 892
As you read this, my hub count stands at 891, many of which are actually available to Google for prompt and efficient indexing. Unfortunately the HubLords deigned to implement objectively arbitrary ranking circles intended to hide ostensibly yucky stuff from the search engines. Adjectives make writing good.
A solid black dot indicates extreme affection for the hub. HubPages has decided that Google may have permission to crawl the content and add it to the collective. You've got a fighting chance of appearing in the Top 10 results for a highly sought-after keyword such as 'cat' or 'turlingdrome.' It could happen.
A half-moon image assigns your writing to the ragged edge between Google and nothingness. You're teetering. Add a few more word-laden paragraphs and things just might work out in your favor. Pop in a properly cited image or a poll or an embedded video: good things could happen.
Look not unto the empty black circle: your writing has been desecrated into the ashcan of digital dribbling. Life continues, but just barely. You and your parents and your Facebook friends know you wrote something, but the other 99.99999% of the Internet will never see it. Your words could offer impetus for world peace, but oh, well.
Don't let me slip back
Conceivably I could wake up this afternoon with less than 900 followers. Possible, it is, that one of you might read my dissertation on health care as a human right and decide to unfollow me. HubPages still lets you do that. Following a Hubber has not yet been deemed binding.
I don't want to lose you. This would be a very bad thing. I can't afford to fall below 900, for obvious reasons. It's a number that's both even and also divisible by three. It can be factored by 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 12, 15, 18, 20, 25, 30, 36, 45, 50, 60, 75, 90, 100 ,150, 180, 225, 300, 450, and 900. It's a common frequency band for cordless telephones. You can understand my concern.
Resist urges to unfollow me. It's a lot of effort and it won't benefit either of us. You posses unlimited amounts of follows: I only want one. You won't miss it.
Even if you loathed my innovative series on the Little Town of Coolville, OH, please stick with me. Admittedly the Pomegranate publications were ill-conceived, but, like the Democratic Party, I really meant well.
Almost 700 words: stay with me:
Please, stick with me. I want to write stuff for you. Join me on my journey to properly deploy strategic gerunds and expertly avoid dangling participles. Revel in my discoveries of online thesauri and rhyming dictionaries. Suffer with me as I hone my craft with action verbs and proper tenses. It can only get better.
Leave comments if you wanna. I read them all and I comment back at you. Speak to me about grammatical errors, factual anomalies, and suspicious content that may have originated in a country where the electricity shuts off at sundown. I need your help and I covet your following.