Why ditch a perfectly good blog to start all over again? I’m not sure that I have the answer.
When I first started blogging, it was an adventure. I needed to prove to myself that I could do it. That I could attract an audience, entertain them, and handle the technical aspects of creating a blog.
I loved sharing my world and making connections with others. Not quite a diary, it almost felt like a practise run for that book I might one day write. A blog is a fantastic platform for a foray into the world, and it’s wonderful to watch your readership grow. But, for me, it came at a price, and after a while I began to feel constrained. Manipulated, almost. So why start again?
I still find myself checking the Reader most days. I love that feeling of being taken out of myself and delving head first into someone else’s world. Sharing someone else’s discoveries. Being taken on a flight of fancy. It’s akin to reading a good book, yet wholely different. I never know what I’m going to find, but so often it illuminates and enhances my day. I’ve always loved to tell a story, in words and in photos. It’s powerful, the feeling of carrying people along with me, in pursuit of a good yarn. Pure fantasy I’ve never been able to write, but I’ve been known to embroider the truth a little, now and then.
Small steps, beginning with Jo’s Monday walk. Join me next week? And who knows where we’ll go from there?