I remember when I began blogging.
My intent was to write. That’s it.
My daughter had a blog. It was lovely. It was sweet. I loved it so very much.
When I began blogging, I was clueless on followers. Then I had a book idea, memoir.
It was the best title, best concept, most ingenious combining of story, art, recovery.
Goodness, that was long ago.
Trying to be famous enough to be a writer was exhausting.
Lately, I keep wondering who might be open to my question…
Is it possible to write a book without having throngs of people flocking to know you?
Was there a time when numbers of those who knew you didn’t matter?
Was there a time a newsletter wasn’t necessary to have a voice worth hearing, words worth reading?
I considered these questions as I quietly paid my annual WordPress fee to keep my space here.
I remember, years ago, I told a blogger friend.
I don’t want to be perky little Christian woman writing about her beliefs in Jesus.
I want to be me.
So, if I’ve accomplished anything.
I believe, book or no, I’ve accomplished this.
Who’s to say if the book idea is long buried or it was a teeny tiny seed I’ve yet to harvest.
Time will tell.
Until then, I’ll keep writing here.
Unconcerned with who follows, only hoping I make them curious.
A southerner who loves words and loves writing, an artist who keeps creating.
Because she’s sure God kept her and made her to continue.
Continue and believe.
Thanks for reading. 😊