Success on Steemit depends on your ability to create quality content that engages your readers. Good quality, interesting content will create value for your readers. They will interact with your content. You will get upvotes. Here is the simple golden rule of all Steemit Posts--
Let's face the truth here--no one likes boring.
I'm an author. I write a lot. Often more than 5,000 words a day. After I'm done, I read through what I have written. Sometimes it is a load of crap. Much of what I write at first is boring and uninteresting. But among the waste I nearly always find a few gems of interesting. That is where success can be found. As you create content, ruthlessly cut out the crap and polish the "gems of interesting" until they shine brilliantly.
These gems are what it is all about. When I am writing, this is what I do all the crap writing for--just so I can find a few "gems of interesting"
It is a lot like old time mining. A miner would dig and dig and dig. He would pull out loads of dirt and rocks just to find a tiny diamond or nugget of gold. The shiny find makes it all worth it.
This past year, I spent three months writing a novel. When I was done, I had to throw nearly the whole thing in the trash bin because it was unreadable. But I found one delightful chapter in amongst the rest of the dross. Here it is:
Dust rose in the distance. The road had been baking in the sun for days and now the dust was a finger-width thick. Every step I took, a small cloud of dust rose around my boots, dirtying everything, sneaking into every part of my clothing and hair, and making me feel even more miserable than I thought possible.
Behind us, a small set of hills rose in the distance. The same hills we had been accosted and had our horses stolen. I would have used my magic on them, but High Inquisitor Shirsh had warned me to only use it in an emergency. When I asked him why, he merely answered cryptically, “Some can locate.” I had no idea what he meant, but I decided to keep trusting him even though I wasn’t quite sure why.
It had happened the previous night as the sun began to set. We were just slowing our horses down, looking for a place to camp for the evening when out of the trees on the side of the road a man with a scarf across his nose and mouth had stepped in front of us with his arms raised.
“Stop.”
Startled, we came to a stop.
He was a greasy man, with long hair several decades past any possible expiration date of haircut style. Tall and impossibly thin, he had on a ragged shirt, pants with holes, and a pair of boots that seemed much too large for any man’s foot.
I had started to laugh. “Is this a robbery?” I asked.
He nodded. Solemn as a priest of the Five at the annual festival of death. “It is.”
Yvette had become angry then. “Get out of our way,” she said as she lifted her crossbow off her back. She cocked it and waited.
The thin man dropped his left hand and pointed his right toward the tree line. “I wouldn’t do that, lady.”
“She isn’t a lady,” I responded.
“Either way,” he agreed.
As I peered into the gloom of the trees lining the side of the road, I began to make out shapes. Lots of man shapes.
“You’ve a friend or two in there?” I asked and pointed to the woods. We must have looked quite the site. Me astride my horse, him standing in the road in front of my and both of us pointing into the woods.
“Yes, a few.”
A man of not so many words. I might have liked him had the circumstances been any different.
“Are they going to show themselves?” I asked. “For all I know, you’ve just set up several dozen scarecrows and called them your friends. Perhaps you eat brunch with them every day before noon and tell them stories of your childhood.”
“Very funny,” he said. “It doesn’t pay to be smarmy when you are surrounded.”
“Right then,” I said. “Here we are at the crux of the problem.” I pointed to the woods again. “You say we are surrounded and here I sit, not quite believing you.”
His friends stepped out of the woods then. There were five more than three dozen. They all had bows and swords.
“Well then,” I said. “That about answers my concerns. We’ll just be on our way then.” I twitched the reins on my horse.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “You can keep your personal effects and all, but the horses are ours.”
I looked at Yvette. If looks could kill, the man and his many friends might already be roasting in Sheol. Not much help there. Angry glances and fierce stares are all well and good, but they don’t solve problems like this. I shrugged my shoulders and dismounted.
“Your a real treat,” I told him. “Thanks for letting us keep our weapons.”
“We ain’t cruel.”
I looked at him a moment, a bad feeling forming at the bottom of my stomach. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
He pointed down the road toward Shiskin. “You headed that way then?” he asked.
I nodded. “We are.”
There are several leagues between here and Shiskin.
“Thank you for the geography lesson and all, but I’m not sure if you’ve answered my question.
“The road is filled with filthy croccers, you’ll be needing your weapons. We might be robbers but I won’t be having it said we are murderers, sending people off to certain death.” He took a long, slow look at Yvette. “Or you could join with us?” he asked hopefully.
“And rob people?” asked Yvette.
He nodded. “It ain’t such a bad life. There’s plenty of food in the woods, clean water and such.”
I questioned in my mind for a moment if he had ever used said clean water for anything even approaching a bath before I realized he meant for drinking.
“Sounds mighty enticing when you put it like that,” said Yvette.
He smiled at her response. I think he might have been lacking a bit upstairs. Any fool worth his salt knew when a woman answered a question with a tone like Yvette had just used, it meant the exact opposite of what said woman had actually said, or something like that I thought to myself. Sometimes I get thinking too much and I almost confuse myself.
Ogma took advantage of my momentary weakness and whispered into my mind, “You always confuse me, you featherless skin sack.”
“Ahh, good to know who has my back in tough times,” I answered him.
He hooted with derision. “I warned you. Don’t go through the mountain pass, I said. But you’re such a thick shelled egg, you just ignored me and followed the woman into the mountains.”
“Not the right time, Og. I’m a bit busy right now. Stow it a minute. You can get in all your ‘I told you so’ comments after I’m done with the robbers,” I told him.
“You all right?” asked the thin robber.
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“You just had a strange look on your face. Like you suddenly weren’t all there.”
Yvette laughed out loud at this. Ogma joined in.
“That seems to be normal for him,” said Yvette.
The thin robber nodded. I think he wasn’t quite sure what to do with us. We were fighting so much among ourselves, he must have been feeling a bit left out and ignored. So he punched me in the face.
“Ow,” I said. “What did you do that for?”
The robber baron looked a bit abashed at that. “Just didn’t think you were putting enough effort into the situation. I thought I would get you focused.”
“So you punched me in the mouth?”
“It’s what my Da always used to do.”
“And it worked?”
He nodded. “I pay attention when times call for it. So I would have to say, yes his parenting seems to have paid off in the long run.”
“Seems a bit cruel to rob someone and then just punch them in the face for no good reason.”
“Shut up!” shouted Yvette.
I looked at her. “You didn’t just get punched in the mouth.”
She punched me in the mouth.
“You too,” I mumbled through swollen lips.
Ogma hooted again.
The robber pointed at Ogma. “Your owl seems pretty happy.”
“Sure he is. He didn’t just get punched in the beak, did he?”
So after several more minutes of bickering, we walked away from the robbers without our horses and me with two swollen lips.
When I re-read my three months of work, checking to see if I had created anything of value, I laughed out loud during this scene. It had an appropriate amount of humor and gritty reality that I knew my readers would enjoy. The character interactions felt real. I knew I had found a "nugget of interesting".
Your job on Steemit is to create "nuggets of interesting".
If you do, you will be well rewarded. If you don't, you will languish in anonymity and be frustrated with the process.
How do you create "nuggets of interesting"?
You set about creating them through diligent, applied effort. You work hard. You create value for your readers.
You create posts that would interest you.
Quite frankly, if you snap a simple photo and post it, you will probably not get a load of interaction. But if you can create a story with your photo--you are much more likely to engage your readers and get solid interaction.
Remember the golden rule--
Here are a few of my Steemit friends that I have found absolutely interesting because they create quality content. They nearly always get my upvotes.
If you didn't catch it yet, here is the most important thing you can remember about the letter c is to always:
Remember the golden rule,
This series of articles is dedicated to explaining the basics of Steemit for new users and anyone else who wants to brush up on Steemit basics.
Here are the other posts in this series:
A is for Always Protect Your Password
**All pictures used are labeled for reuse. They come from Pixabay
