I've thought before that I should change the name of this blog; I worry that good mommies with long-held writing ambitions Google "writer mommy" only to end up here.
Not that I don't like my personal blog or enjoy scribbling my little heart out here in this little corner of the web that I've owned for years; I do.
But I wonder if there are those souls out there who click thru from their Google search results page only to say, "Oh. Not what I was looking for."
I had hopes when I bought this domain name in 2004 (!) of creating a fantabulous website that would be both a resource and a hub for writing moms. A place that I would like to hang out myself, clicking around and surfing the useful links, maybe even connecting to other writing moms.
But life happened. Plans changed. Another little person (with a big mouth - I said to a friend a few weeks ago that Tom's screaming was so horrible that I feared the sonic waves may have shook my ovaries and rendered me sterile) arrived. There were more important matters to attend to than my little webby dream.
By the time I came back to the web and my desire to create, things had changed. Drastically. The idea of a static site seemed old news; I embraced blogging heart and soul.
I love blogging, from the writing to the back stage techie work that forces me to constantly learn something new. Like my friend Jane has said more than once, I think everyone should blog; everyone has a story that matters. Even if your blog is only for your eyes, it's still there, your story, waiting to be shared or discovered.
But I worry that this blog, attached to such a fine and lofty domain name, disappoints clickers-thru. It is just me and my ramblings and my teensy little rants (I rant far more in real life; I try to keep myself in check here).
I share just a little of myself - despite my outgoing personality and passion for social media, I'm a private person at my core - and try to grab those moments that matter and trap them in words before they flee my overworked brain. Sometimes I succeed brilliantly at this; most days, I feel as though I've got the most ginormous of magnifying glasses aimed right at my navel.
And I still, still, clench those writing dreams of mine with tight and stubborn fists. I find myself wondering if blogging will be the only writing I leave behind when I exit this madcap world. I'm conflicted about that possibility. Do I abandon blogging to chase my big white wordy whale?
Or do I pray for patience and time to catch my dream before it floats away like a child's balloon?
I don't know - but I'm here. And I'm here.
And I love hanging in these webjoints with you, my fine friends whom I would never have met if I'd let my shaking finger pause, then simply fall to my lap the first time I moused-over the "Publish" button.
I'm here because you're here; for now, that's more than enough.
(And I feel like a heel because I've yet had time to fix the comments section; feel free to beat me with a wet spaghetti noodle the next time you see me, k?)
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