Esme stared again at the screen of her laptop, clicking refresh every few seconds. It had been just under two weeks since the break-up and since she’d moved home. It wasn’t that long and yet, it felt like so much had happened. Watching the screen, she huffed out a breath. There’d only been eight hits on her blog and she felt utterly defeated. No one had left any comments or signed up to her mailing list. The few that had looked hadn’t bothered reading anything at all.
She knew she needed to add more content and was spending today picking and choosing recipes. Some of the older recipes were too bland for today’s sweet palates, or had weird ingredients from the days of rationing. And there was absolutely no way she was cooking horse. Where did you even get horse? It was probably illegal to eat it these days and she wasn’t going to try it anyway. She wanted to show some of the old dishes off, but they needed a lot of care and attention before they were introduced to the modern world.
Recently, Esme had begun to enjoy being apart from normal life, but her confidence was scant. Her cottage offered some refuge from the outside world, being as isolated as it was, but it was still quite cold even with the fire on and that, combined with a sudden lack of routine, made her despondent. It was the last week of November, but her usual excitement and Christmas cheer was gone. She’d managed to get dressed today into proper clothes and had put on three extra jumpers, but the strong wind outside blew the trees almost horizontal and whistled through the house.
Esme sat back on the sofa and pulled her legs up to her chest. She felt too old to be starting a new career. A little voice in her head told her this was all completely pointless and the whole world was shouting at her to stop being silly, stop playing at being a blogger. She might as well just plod on to retirement doing what she’d always done and then die. She picked up her phone and dialled Lola, confiding in her the moment she answered.
‘It’s not working,’ Esme cried down the line. ‘No one’s reading my blog and I don’t know what to do. I don’t understand search engine optimisation, or key phrases, and Twitter is, quite frankly, beyond me. You can’t say anything remotely interesting, or important in 280 characters. What do I do, Lola?’
Lola spluttered a laugh. ‘I know it’s hard, honey, but you have to keep at it. Websites don’t grow overnight. You have to plug away getting your name out there.’
‘But I don’t know how.’ Esme flung her free hand in the air and the sleeve of her oversized jumper flew out, hitting her on top of her head. ‘Oh, Lola. Is this all a terrible idea?
‘No, it’s not. You’re an amazing cook and you just need to persevere. Try linking to other websites, or guest blogging. Oh, there is one other thing you could try.’
Esme scrunched up her face. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this. She wasn’t going in for anything gimmicky. No cooking naked or finding the next must-have ingredient and including that in everything from coffee to ice cream. ‘Oh yeah, what’s that?’
‘Vlogging.’
‘Vlogging?’
‘Yeah. Video blogging. Recent evidence shows that people are searching way more for videos than they used to. It might be worth a shot. But like I said, building a following doesn’t happen overnight. You have to put lots of time and energy into it. Keep adding posts and people will start looking.’
Esme wasn’t sure. It was a great idea for other people, but could she do it? She didn’t want to be yet another Felicity Fenchurch. Another fake TV cook who didn’t stand for anything. Those shows were all about fancy dinner parties with matching crockery and showing off, without any real heart and soul, or even actual cooking.
Esme examined her recipe book. Her blog, her as yet unwritten cookbook, her new career, she wanted it to have a meaning she could pass on. To her, recipes were all about sharing and learning. She’d always learned from watching and others could too. She’d learned from watching her grandma cook as Mum couldn’t be trusted in the kitchen. But with Grandma, Esme had watched, tried and tasted, gradually falling in love with cooking.
‘Like YouTube?’ Esme asked, still a bit confused by how it would work in practice.
‘Yes, you could start your own channel – I’d follow you!’
Esme loved the idea of being an internet sensation. It had led to so much more for so many people, but things like that didn’t happen to people like her. Still, it might be worth a shot just to get people reading her blog. ‘I wouldn’t need much, would I?’
‘Just a decent camera that you can attach to your laptop. How’s the money situation going?’
Esme shifted in her seat. Her mum and dad had been generous, but she needed to keep as much as she could aside for living expenses. Could she afford to buy a camera? ‘Things are tight. I’m not making any money at the moment and I need to save what I’ve got.’
‘I really think you should do this, Esme,’ encouraged Lola. ‘I know you’re being careful, but you need to invest in your future and that’s what you’ll be doing.’
Esme cocked her head to one side. A little camera couldn’t be that expensive. ‘Okay, then. I will.’
‘Do a trial run first and record it, then you can make sure you’ve got everything right.’
‘Good idea. I’ll let you know when and you guys can come down and review it with me.’
‘Sounds like a plan. I do love a nice trip home. Maybe we’ll pop in and say hi to Joe Holloway while we’re there.’
‘Stop it. How are you and Eric?’ Esme asked to distract Lola from probing further.
‘We’re good. We’re going to see a movie tonight,’ Lola replied.
Esme missed saying ‘we’ sometimes. She played with the tassel on one of her cushions. ‘Have a good time you two. See you later.’
Esme hung up then searched online for a camera. Before long she had placed her order and, filled with excitement, her camera was on its way.