Ask Marsha: The Ins and Outs of Guest Blogging

Before I get to guest blogging, let me make a confession.  The pure, honest, and whole truth is I’m not sure why my husband thought people would write in and ask me questions on my website.  Really!  It’s not that I don’t get tons of questions daily.   I do.  “Where are my glasses?”  “Have you seen my keys anywhere?”  “Could you come here and hold this?”  “Do you know if this or that person is on this or that committee?”  “Do you want me to make coffee this morning?”  “What are we having for dinner?”  “Did your power go off in the storm last night?”  Each of those questions would make a marvelously interesting post, don’t you think?

Glasses male

I mean, after all, where could glasses be?  In the refrigerator, I doubt that?  I’m always in the middle of something when Vince asks me that question in a  tone reminiscent of lost homework when you can hear the school bus is turning the corner approaching your stop.  So mid-email, I get up, start looking for the glasses, in all the right places, and can’t find them.  I’m worried for him.  I know he has an important meeting sometime that morning.  So I search all over the house, and in the meantime, he quietly slipped outside to check the truck, found the glasses, put them on, and is now out in the back yard watering.  Meanwhile I’m still looking for the glasses.  There ought to be a rule, if you answer your own question, please tell the researcher so they will quit researching.

Where are my glasses

To be fair to Vince, turn about is always fair play, and I FINALLY found my sunglasses the other day wound up in the dog’s retractable leash laying on the antique sewing machine, right inside the front door, where we always dump stuff.  I don’t remember if I told Vince that I found them after we both looked for 10 minutes – EVERYWHERE – even in the bathtub.

The the only question that might interest you this week involved preparing a guest post. My friend, Carol, graciously asked me to do an article for her blog.  I think that is an honor, by the way. I mean she could have just pressed the reblog button.  I’m not sure there is a lot of difference, really.  The problem she ran into was that even though she had access to all my pictures, some of them were in galleries.  WordPress galleries don’t transfer when you cut and paste.

When you trade posts, or write articles for magazines, it is best to have the pictures in a folder to pass on to the publisher.  In the case of blogs, it is best to resize them to either 400 X 600 or 600 X 400 pixels.  If you want credit, you can either put a watermark signature or embed it in the photo information.  Then save them at a low quality – I choose 3.  This takes time to prepare the photos unless you do batch processing in Photoshop, and that is another lesson.

I have a blog just for unpublished materials, and Carol has administrative access to that blog.  In her case she could open two windows of the post from “our” blog.  Leaving one post open in preview form, she could use that as a template to see what pictures were intended to got with which paragraphs.  Then, in the other window, she could edit the post, remove the galleries and go to the media library to insert the pictures individually into the article.  Finally, she could cut and paste the finished article into her other blog, The Eternal Traveler.  Look for it on September 3rd.  She’s already scheduled it.  How cool is that?  (Another question!)

After
Take a journey with the Eternal Traveler to a far away place, Fresno, California.  

Sharing blogs with someone else is another lesson for another day, but it can be either interesting or forgotten.  I’ve done both!

So is my husband right?  Do you have questions for me?

 

 

Author: Marsha

Hi, I'm Marsha Ingrao, and I'm working on retirement. heheh Read more about me here. http://wp.me/P7tP3I-2

25 thoughts on “Ask Marsha: The Ins and Outs of Guest Blogging”

  1. I’ve asked for my glasses a few times only to find that I was already wearing them…
    I know – that’s really baaad & that’s when I realize that I need to catch a break or get some serious sleep.
    No questions from me…Not today 🙂

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    1. Probably while you are in Thailand or Germany or Russia! Actually I’d love to come. I have a couple more really busy years, then I could travel for a longer time. I’m not sure I’d ever get V away from his dog that long, though! He’s looking at trailers. 🙂

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  2. I have occasionally put odd things in the freezer. Insects for example. Always in pots and sealed bags. But never my glasses. Mrs H has banned the entomology section of the freezer now. Question: do you think she is right?

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  3. Oh my, the glasses saga! Brilliantly portrayed!

    I have the odd habit of knowing precisely where Sir’s are at any given moment, but when it comes to my own glasses, or…anything of mine- no idea. And Sir of course never has any idea.

    Now, if Sir has lost anything at all, I always know right where it is. Me mum used to trust this ability of mine completely, and relied upon it, but Sir is stubborn. He searches for forty minutes first, before seeking me out. Then he is always shocked when I appear micro-seconds later with missing object.

    Har har.

    So excited about reading your guest blog entry on the 3rd! Excellent post as always!!! And that teaser photo is too exquisite, what a beautiful shot! Many smiling cheers,

    Autumn Jade

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    1. Sir is stubborn? Where did he get that quality – certainly not from you! I think you would be a welcome addition to our family. We both lose things constantly. I’m afraid i NEVER know where Vince has laid his ____. Fill in the blank. I keep the clutter down, so if it’s on a counter, it’s pretty easy to find. But I am missing a couple of magazines. I searched every book case, cleaned my desk in the other room. NO LUCK anywhere! I still haven’t found it 2 days later. Oh well! Then I just have to learn how to do without it. Vince still hasn’t found his glasses, either. We might have ghosts! 🙂 Maybe black holes. I don’t know, but maybe my magazines are with his glasses. So if you get bored just finding Sir’s stuff, take a vacation, and find out what it’s like doing it for TWO leave stuff everywhere folks! 🙂

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      1. What a scene that would be- a complete riot, we would be, crashing about losing everything. I can just picture it…ah, wonderful. I suspect you would not be deprived of the two beloved mags and the absent glasses for long. I would beam around and suddenly bombillate forth, glasses and mags raining down like confetti, my eyes twinkling in a most leprechaunic fashion. 😉

        Actually, I have found some organic farms in your county there I was thinking of volunteering at. I was going to see about getting some organic farm volunteer experience here first and then see if I could exquisitely intimidate like a fiendish master puppeteer, er…I mean, candidly charm, one of the farmers out there to let an olde smiling toad come wobbling over to gash the ground with hoes and yank at spiny weeds and so forth for them. What a hoot that would be.

        Speaking of hoots, Sir and I just had a fabulous evening owl-hunting. Nothing better than owl-hunting, I always say. Barred owls were hooting all over the place, it was blasted fantastic. I had to duck away from police again, though. After we stared up into trees for a while, dog-walkers musing about our sanity as they gingerly stepped around us and ran, we returned to the car. I unleashed Sir on my Tennessee Williams book (he’s reading “Orpheus Descending”) whilst I was about to go sauntering to the court for a bit of basketball. And then a navy-blue cruiser suddenly breezed into the park. I was not doing anything illegal, mind you, but there’s something about me that attracts them…must be the hair or the strange distorted expressions I’m always donning (I can’t help it!)- or whatever- they always come bounding up with strobes, howling about what drugs I must be ingesting, and what on the planet has induced me to play nocturnal ball by myself with a roof of owls smiling down upon me in the overhanging limbs of the live-oaks above. What I ask is this- how on earth could I NOT?

        Whale, I tend to try and hide if I see officers before they spot me. So I stealthily hid in the shadows, looming like a great notorious criminal, secretly observing their every move, brilliantly deducing away, my blind pursuers completely oblivious of my presence…oh blast…or possibly I just fell into a bush or some rot and stayed there, all a-quiver, until they dissipated.

        The authoritative vehicle went rolling right into the court and loitered there as if they were going to plant themselves there and hatch some wee owl eggs, waiting for me. Some dogs showed up and whined at me, wishing to roll about and romp. A man with an infant cooed to me from behind the hounds and asked how my night was going. Frogs were roaring and crickets were shattering my ear-drums. A screech owl flew overhead, the clouds parted, and ashen moonlight bathed the park- and suddenly, the police decided to cheese off. So, without incident, I was able to enjoy a little hoop-action. Wow…I really went on and on here….and what did I really say?? Humph!

        At least I don’t bring my roller-blades and my boom-box along with me to the court. In the past, I have been known to do this- play some Andrew Bird, dancing wildly on roller-blades, doing a lot of those spinny-things, and shooting swishes at the same time. Sometimes, even terrible singing gets involved. But I try to keep this behaviour out of public parks. Just me, a ball, and some moonlight, and plenty of owls and bats for company.

        Haha, reminds me of old neighbour-torturing times. You should have witnessed those stares they launched at me as I piroutted with blade-wheels spinning in the air, ball swishing in perfect harmony with the crescendo of some song like “Souverian”, me bugling back-up vocals and gesticulating wildly. The only reason they never called the police on me- fear. It was wonderful.

        Why am I going on like this? This must end. You poor lass. This is abominable. I’m putting an end to it now. I know I’m going to regret all this rambling- feel that all-too familiar pang of malnoia settling in already…

        Many hooting cheers,

        babs

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        1. Lovely Babs,
          You HAVE earned your nickname! That doesn’t mean that I don’t love it. Your story is the perfect police story to compliment my post! I hope people stop to read these wonderful stories you write in my comment box. I can picture you hiding in the bushes to wiat for the police to leave. I would probable wave and say, “Hi Michael, how are you tonight. Want to join me in shooting a few hoops of basketball.” My police encounters are usually during a Kiwanis meeting. Of course, I don’t live near a park anymore. When I did, I just walked or rollerbladed – no basketball, thank you very astigmatically much! And no major spins, unless my blades captured a twig between one or more of the four wheels. Then I either danced a jig while spinning out of control downhill, or fell flat on my face. The last time I landed on my face scared me enough to give up unprotected skating. So you’re coming out here to find an organic farm??? hmmm I’m sure we have them. You can help Vince with his overgrown garden. I should take a picture tomorrow. I’m not sure what the sweet potatoes are doing. They have flowers on them now, and they have taken over the garden, along with the marigolds and tomatoes. We are happy hear to swim with the bats at night, and watch the owls swoop from oak tree to oak tree. 🙂

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