A recent post here on Book Marketing Buzz states that WordPress has 65,000,000 blogs (!!!) with 100,000 new ones created daily. Tumblr has over 102 million blogs. LiveJournal has 63 million. Weebly, 12 million. Blogger isn't mentioned in the article, although surely it would have similar numbers if not higher.
Lately, people are saying they're burned out on blogging and
blogging is dead and what's the point and it's no fun anymore. I've
wondered the same things myself. The numbers, however, say blogging is not dead. The big question remains: is it dead for you or for me personally?
In 2014 with all the changes going on in my life, I let this blog slip. I have an author website as well and I figured if Coming Down the Mountain languished it wouldn't be any great loss. People could find me via my WordPress site, and I could still post there whenever I felt like it.
After settling in a different country away from friends and family, I got more active here as part of my need for social interaction with English-speakers. Visiting and commenting on posts, even when I wasn't posting much myself, I realized how many of you on Blogger are my friends. I don't want to lose track of you.
Sure, anyone can find out about me and my books from my website. Sure, there'd be no great loss in the world if I stopped posting on Coming Down the Mountain. Life goes on. Only the truth is, I need blogging. It connects me to people who love to read and write like I do.
So whether it's for a writing outlet, or to have an online presence for marketing purposes, or because blogging can be an enjoyable, effective way to keep in touch with other people--if you've started a blog and kept it up for years, why stop now?
I think it's definitely worth hanging on to what you've got. Then again, if the purpose of one's blog has ended, perhaps it's time to move on. What do you think? Is maintaining a blog worth it to you, or not?
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Catching Wild Horses
When I was little I wanted to be a cowgirl, live on a ranch and have horses. In a way my wish came true because writing a novel feels like catching wild horses.
Every afternoon at two or three o'clock, I go into the hills to see what I can find. It takes a couple hours since I not only have to find them but catch them. Maybe only one at a time. Then I have to get them down to the ranch and into the corral. This takes hours, days, weeks, months.
Once all the wild horses are gathered into one place, the training begins. It's hard work, exhausting work. Often I feel very alone, pushed to the limits of my abilities, and wanting to do anything but this. But I keep at it, moving toward a vision only I believe in.
Then one day I notice the horses are no longer resisting me but responding to my hand. They move into place. That's when the magic begins and I can't stop working.
And then it happens. These animals which were once wild and running free have become my friends. They love me and I love them. Our work together which before was a struggle of constant resistance is now a joy. We are as one, creating a magnificent show.
Art has happened.
Every afternoon at two or three o'clock, I go into the hills to see what I can find. It takes a couple hours since I not only have to find them but catch them. Maybe only one at a time. Then I have to get them down to the ranch and into the corral. This takes hours, days, weeks, months.
Once all the wild horses are gathered into one place, the training begins. It's hard work, exhausting work. Often I feel very alone, pushed to the limits of my abilities, and wanting to do anything but this. But I keep at it, moving toward a vision only I believe in.
Then one day I notice the horses are no longer resisting me but responding to my hand. They move into place. That's when the magic begins and I can't stop working.
And then it happens. These animals which were once wild and running free have become my friends. They love me and I love them. Our work together which before was a struggle of constant resistance is now a joy. We are as one, creating a magnificent show.
Art has happened.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
New Year, New Home, Same Old Goals
My holiday blogging break has ended and so apparently have many others of the blogs I like to read. I always enjoy reading first of the year posts, seeing what you're all planning and dealing with as the new year begins.
As for me, I just want to get back to the writing. After publishing Afraid of Everything, I took a break for travel and it ended up being a two month hiatus due to house-hunting. We came back from our trip to learn the landlord had sold the one we were living in.
At first it was bad news, since we were settled there and thought we liked it. But now that we are in our new place, a larger home filled with light and open space, we realize the other house was dark, dreary and depressing in comparison. Plus it had a wooden loft type ceiling, which housed all kinds of critters: birds and squirrels nesting in it, not to mention the horrid termites.
Since we're out, I wonder how we stood it for as long as we did. Not like there were squirrels and birds inside the house, but we often heard the pitter patter of little feet above us like upstairs tenants.
We now live behind this gate:
The lane leading into our property with the house on the right, an orange tree on the left. The garden has an orange, grapefruit, lemon, lime, banana and coffee tree. Clearly, someone was thinking breakfast when they designed it.
I am checking out the closets. You wouldn't believe how many of the houses we looked at had no closets.
This outdoor thatched patio is ideal for big parties, probably wasted on us without our family. Otherwise, it would be used every weekend for bbq's and birthday parties. There's another one just like it in another corner, that my husband wants to use as a workshop. Only thing is, he got rid of all his tools when we left the States. I guess he can sit in it, relax and dream about what he'd do if only he had the tools.
We were relieved to hear this place is not for sale. We'd like to make it our permanent home in Guatemala, not leaving until we move back to the States, whenever that will be. As I begin the new year in a new home, I reflect on a fresh start and new goals, except they're the same ones I had when we moved to Guatemala last year:
Get fluent in Spanish
Walk daily and eat more fresh fruits and vegetables
Write a novel
What are your goals for the new year?
As for me, I just want to get back to the writing. After publishing Afraid of Everything, I took a break for travel and it ended up being a two month hiatus due to house-hunting. We came back from our trip to learn the landlord had sold the one we were living in.
At first it was bad news, since we were settled there and thought we liked it. But now that we are in our new place, a larger home filled with light and open space, we realize the other house was dark, dreary and depressing in comparison. Plus it had a wooden loft type ceiling, which housed all kinds of critters: birds and squirrels nesting in it, not to mention the horrid termites.
Since we're out, I wonder how we stood it for as long as we did. Not like there were squirrels and birds inside the house, but we often heard the pitter patter of little feet above us like upstairs tenants.
We now live behind this gate:
The lane leading into our property with the house on the right, an orange tree on the left. The garden has an orange, grapefruit, lemon, lime, banana and coffee tree. Clearly, someone was thinking breakfast when they designed it. We were relieved to hear this place is not for sale. We'd like to make it our permanent home in Guatemala, not leaving until we move back to the States, whenever that will be. As I begin the new year in a new home, I reflect on a fresh start and new goals, except they're the same ones I had when we moved to Guatemala last year:
Get fluent in Spanish
Walk daily and eat more fresh fruits and vegetables
Write a novel
What are your goals for the new year?
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