Several weeks ago, I started a new post. Meaning that I pasted a link to a thought-provoking article into the text field, saved it, and decided to come back to it later.
Which I did. (Here I am!). But now that I want to write, that ghost entry isn’t there. I can’t remember the article now, or any of the great big thoughts I had about how to tie it in with food and life and summer.
So it goes with posting. So it goes with a hungry blog.
Let’s start from scratch.
It’s summer, and by the end of it I will have had about 15 days between mid-June and early September to get some work done. (I counted. Maybe I shouldn’t have.)
That’s not much time, but I managed to launch a business.
I decided to stretch my legs as a writer by writing not only about other people, but for other people. I have experience as a ghostwriter and now I’m doing more of that.
As I was revamping my website, the big, looming question to avoid was this: What should I do with my blog?
They say 2013 was the year the blog died. (We all got smart phones, stopped commenting, and started sharing on our own platforms.) I’ve never had a huge following here—and never intended to—but hearing this took the wind out of my sails. What’s the point? Why not put together a nice useful website, shutter the blog, and call it a wrap?
I can’t explain why I didn’t do that. It stung to think about ignoring or (worse) deleting all these posts. And starting a new blog didn’t feel quite right, either. This is where I like to exist in that relaxed way that bloggers do. Irrelevant? Not quite.
In the end, Cinderella’s line from Into the Woods kept humming around in my mind:
Wait no thinking it through.
Things don’t have to collide.
I know what my decision is,
Which is not to decide.
So flaky! But giving up and letting it be feels good. I asked my website guy point the blog tab right here. Decision made.
And, you know, that feels right.
You’ll see some changes here. I’ve updated my bio. I’ve deleted some outdated pages and spruced up the wording here and there. Giving it attention feels good, like cleaning out a closet. And that makes sense. If I have a useful, lovely place to keep things, why would I nail it shut?
So, I’m back. Maybe not often, but I promise to check in periodically with more than a plug of my own work. (Though I am proud of anything with my name on it: Here’s my first international clip!)
I’ll get to work on a post about my trip to Paris in the spring or how temperatures in the 90-somethings sure helps along a batch of fermented pickles or how one weeknight our kitchen turned into a brewery until four a.m. Or something.
Whatever it turns out to be, I’m glad this is still a place to share.