Over exposure

Hmm, just read an enormous article in the Observer about YouTube video bloggers. Apparently they are now all the rage and becoming uber-famous. One of them only started in December and already has ten gazillion regular viewers and advertisers coming out of his ears. I’m afraid I have to admit, ignobly and shamingly, that these stories about other people’s sudden fame and fortune do make me feel a bit wistful. But the trouble is that I don’t actually want to become a global sensation and have people clamouring to upload (or whatever it is they do) my latest ramblings. I quite like pootling along in my own way with my own beloved readers and sharing the occasional tale which I hope might strike a chord with you out there.

On the other hand, I would rather love wads of advertising money.

There’s the rub. I think it’s a bit of an English failing, believing it is somehow a bit too, you know, unseemly and aggressive, to push for success and the rewards it brings. The cult of the amateur has a lot to answer for. And, of course, those amateurs that we all rather admire, whoever-it-was in Chariots of Fire, or Raffles the amateur cracksman, or Lord Peter Whimsey, the sometime sleuth, all have lovely titles and stately homes and private incomes to fall back on. Not the case here at Newlywed Towers.

I blush to admit that I was actually given one of those video-blogging devices, about two or three years ago, all free and everything. I could have been a ground-breaking, in-the-vanguard, early adopter vlogger. Instead, of course, I decided my nearest and dearest were the only people who needed to be exposed to my face on a regular basis, shoved the clever little camera into the glove compartment in the car, forgot all about it and only rediscovered it the other day, covered in old boiled sweets, fluff and bits of exploded foundation. Luvverly.

It’s not just the cyber stuff, though. A friend suggested I write a Shades of Grey-alike, and I recoiled. Everyone has their own comfort zone, I suppose, and I didn’t find my own in the Red Room of Pain. When you are writing about your own life, and that of family and friends, it’s hard to find a level of exposure that you, and those around you, are happy with. This is mine, I hope it’s yours too.

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