I search every day for new blogs to read and subscribe to.  So far, I've found about a dozen on Wordpress where I maintain another blog, like this one, written by a South African woman in London, or this one, written by a young Scottish woman, or this, by a woman whose wit and charm never fail to amuse.

My list of OS favorites, luckily, is fairly long. 

But, to my disappointment, too much of the time I come up empty-handed.

As a career journalist and author of two well-reviewed non-fiction books, I'm really fussy. My attention is already thinly sliced between three newspapers a day, two or three books at a time, magazines, BBC, NPR and life.

For me to devote further attention to your work, I need, and must have, a powerful reason to give you -- not them -- my most precious resource.

My time.

This is why so few are capturing me:

The blog is too personal. If I can't tell, within one  or two sentences, what you're talking about, I'm gone.

It is riddled with spelling mistakes or bad grammar. I have no time to read material you didn't take time to clean up.

It's boring. Just because you saw or felt something doesn't make it interesting. Writing about it well makes it interesting to others.

It's unoriginal. There's little new any of us have to say. So it's how we say it that will intrigue readers and keep them returning.

It never goes meta. I admit it, I'm  a big fan of meta posts -- posts about blogging. Because they are really posts about what we think and when and why, that question the very reason any of us are behaving as we do. Which is why I read this blog.

Your fans are too gushy. I read comments carefully, sometimes hundreds of them, to see who's reading your blog. If all they do is praise you -- never really conversing about your material or challenging your assumptions, even politely -- it's a fan club. Which is lovely, but not compelling enough for me to keep returning.

You're playing it safe. The whole point of blogging, which is why so many people don't reveal their true identities, is to say something loudly and proudly -- or poetically and beautifully. Often, to be protected from vitriol or your loved ones' hurt feelings, in a voice that is not yours. Yet if, even behind a pseudonym, you're not really saying something thoughtful and provocative, why bother?

No one wants to read the private meanderings that really belong in your journal. No, they don't.

You're not funny. If you can make me laugh, I'm yours for life. Seriously!

You fail to move me. If your blog is focused on personal material, I want you to make me feel something -- how sad you are, how thrilled you felt when. Make me laugh or cry or get angry!

The reason, we journos are told, that our business is dying is because blogging is so lively and engaging, able to veer far away from the bloodless "objectivity" that North American newspapers still require of their writers. But great print writers are great print writers because they never consider writing quick or easy. They revise and revise and revise -- and must always meet the pre-publication demands of multiple, fussy editors.

You don't revise or edit your work. How often do you bang it out, in an urgent frenzy to share your views with the world, and hit "publish" right away? If this is your automatic habit, time to re-think. Very few pieces cannot benefit from a cooling-off phase, even a  few hours' worth, in which you'll return to find several ways to make it tighter and stronger.

You spend too much time throat-clearing. Just say it! Television news stories, which I've written for a living, are rarely more than three or four sentences, read aloud within 30, 60 or 90 seconds.

You fail to punctuate or break up your copy. When I see a blog that goes onandonandoandonandon without a single line break, or paragraphs, or sub-head, I'm gone. Who listens to a monologue? A blog that fails to factor in my attention span and willingness and ability to slog through reams of material, with no thought as to how to move me through it gracefully, is not being written for me, the reader, but for you, the blogger. We are your audience. Treat us with respect.

You never use visuals. A sea of words is tedious and lacks imagination. Some of the most powerful pieces I've ever seen on blogs are visual, whether a drawing (like the insanely, and deservedly, popular Hyperbole and a Half), photo or illustration.

You never link to anyone else's work or ideas. No one is that fascinating. Show me who else you enjoy and are finding worth your time and attention. I want to see how your mind works, not just what you have to say.

You think the medium is cool enough on its own. Not for me. I come from the media of print, having worked for three major daily newspapers, The Globe and Mail, Gazette and the NY Daily News. I was an editor at four monthly magazines, three of them focused on news. All of which demanded a careful selection of ideas, visuals and design. Every journalist I have ever met is acutely aware of one thing -- intense and growing competition for their work. It has to be amazing, or as as close as we can get, to win your attention.

I expect no less from your blog.

What are you loving (or hating) about the blogs you find?