The End of November

This was my 13th year doing NaBloPoMo, which is crazy. I had only been blogging for a few months when I did it the first time. Of the 13 Novembers, I only fell short one year - 2016. After the election, I couldn’t do much of anything, let alone write. It’s honestly been difficult to continue on in this space because I don’t know what to say about the state of the world and I can’t always muster the carefree humor that was a hallmark of my early blogging days.

But I can’t seem to quit blogging. So when November rolled around, I did what I’ve done every November for a very long time - I wrote a post each day.

I usually learn something about myself through this daily writing practice and, this year, I learned that I was rusty. I question myself more - not in general, just in blogging. But I also feel like I learned something about blogging in 2018. Every once in awhile, someone proclaims that blogging is dead and then a bunch of people rush to claim otherwise. This year, I felt like maybe it is. Fewer readers. Fewer comments. Fewer shares. This is an observation, not a lamentation.

Melisa and I talked about this last night and she reminded me that we have to do it for ourselves. That’s how it was for me in the beginning but I admit that I miss interacting with people here. I have to change my expectations and get back to the old way - sisters doing it for themselves. I think I can do that.

Back in the old days, we used to get badges when we finished NaBloPoMo. Melisa made a badge this year and I grabbed it. 30 posts in 30 days is never easy - so cheers to all those who gave it their best!