Blogging Isn’t Dead. It Just Stopped Caring About Being Cool.

On choosing permanence over platforms

Retro Tech, Eternal Words – Rendered by the author in DALL-E

So, a little confession for today. I still blog (duh). And not on some influencer-approved “personal brand” site, either. On Blogger, of all places (obviously). That’s right, the same platform I first embraced back in the early 2000s, when everyone had a sidebar full of blogroll links and comments sections that felt like coffee shops.

And by now, I’ve lost track of how many people have told me blogging is dead over the years. It died when Facebook took over. It died when Twitter (sorry, X) became the default megaphone. It died again when TikTok convinced the world that everything worth saying can (and should) be boiled down to 30 seconds of frantic hand gestures and on-screen captions.

But here’s the thing. Blogging didn’t actually die. It just stopped being trendy. And honestly? There's a part of me that likes it better this way.

The Myth of the Dead Blog

Seriously, we’ve been pronouncing blogging dead for over a decade now, like we're living in the digital answer to Groundhog Day. Every few years, a think piece pops up declaring blogs obsolete and on their way out for good. 

Yet, while the crowd stampedes toward the Next Big Thing, the millions of blogs out there just… keep going. They're quieter, sure. But they're definitely still there, like a stubborn patch of wildflowers growing through the cracks in the sidewalk.

I imagine it's because for some of us, blogging was never about being the hot new thing. It was about having a place to put our words where they could potentially be discovered by others. It still is.

What I’ve Learned From Blogging Every Week (Even When I Didn’t Feel Like It)

You know those writers who always seem to have their act together? (Of course, you do.)

They’re cranking out newsletters every week, dropping blog posts like clockwork, and somehow still finding time to live aesthetic Insta-worthy lives full of matcha lattes and annotated novels. I used to assume those people had some secret I didn’t.

At this point, I fully realize they don’t. And neither do I.

But I have been blogging weekly for a while now, and I’ve learned a few things along the way. Some of them surprised me. Most of them made me realize that consistency isn’t about inspiration, productivity hacks, or being in the mood. It’s about building something quietly over time and trusting that the process is worth it, even when the words don’t feel like anything much in the moment.

Here are a few notes on what I've learned so far.

You Don't Have to Be Inspired to Write Something Good

If this were a requirement, I'd be screwed, because I don’t always feel like writing.

Sometimes I’m tired. Sometimes my brain is loud and completely overstuffed with concerns about other people’s needs. Sometimes I open the blank post window and just… stare for no good reason. And yet, some of my favorite pieces – especially the ones people have reached out about and the ones I’ve looked back on with real pride over the years – were written on days like that.

Inspiration is awesome when it actually happens. But thankfully, it’s not required.

I’ve learned that writing is a bit like lighting a candle in a dark room. You don’t wait for the room to light itself. You make the decision to show up one day with a match. And more often than not, something catches, even if it’s just a warm little flicker at first.

Readers Value Your Voice More Than You Think

There have been weeks when I almost didn’t publish anything. I’d write something, read it back, and think, “Is this even worth posting? Does this say anything that matters, and is anyone actually going to notice or care?” But I’d hit publish anyway. Sometimes, I'd even have someone message me to say it resonated. 

Readers connect with your voice, your honesty, and your rhythm. And when you show up consistently, even in small ways, people start to trust that voice, even if they don't always step out of the shadows and say so explicitly. You become part of their week. And they become part of yours.

What I Share, What I Don't, and Why

Today is one of those days I'm getting to my daily reflection later rather than sooner, but that's OK. Dinner’s done. The last of the light faded away behind the trees for the night some time ago. 

I’m back indoors after a hot mushroom coffee, thinking about what a challenge it can be to balance being open, real, and whole, while also remaining a deeply private person. As always, I'm two different things at once.

The Pressure to Be Transparent

As a writer, especially one who fell in love with words through diary-keeping as a kid, I’m used to using my life as raw material for the things I create. If something hits me hard, I'll probably look for a way to write about it. If I notice a pattern, I use writing to break it down and see what else I can turn it into. 

I write to figure things out and find meaning in things that otherwise wouldn’t make much sense. But there’s a difference between writing from life, because that's what works for me, and handing something vital over on a silver platter for public consumption.

I'm not about completely spilling my guts, but I care about being authentic and helping others around me become more comfortable with their own authenticity. And the older I get, the more I realize it really doesn't have to be one or the other –– either holding it all in or way oversharing. There's definitely a middle ground there, and I'm getting better at staying there.

Not Everything Needs to Be Shared

Since starting my Substack newsletter, The Writer in the Wild, I’ve been thinking more about what it means to write publicly with intention. Especially as I try to shape that new space into something useful, something that helps people reconnect with their creativity and feel at home in their own writing lives.

That being the case, I'm grappling with the usual questions. How personal is too personal? How much do people even want to know about my non-writing life, and how much do I want to tell them in the first place? I know I'll eventually strike a solid balance, because I always do, but there's always a lot of back and forth I go through before I get there.

Writing from the Inside Out

All things considered, being honest doesn't necessarily mean putting every detail of what you want to talk about down on the page. You just have to tell the truth about what you do put there. That’s something I've been working hard at lately — not just as a writer, but as someone trying to show up in public spaces more authentically and intentionally. 

One of the ways I check in with myself is to ask, "Am I sharing this to be understood? Or am I sharing because I want to feel edgy, daring, or just plain validated?" 

I don’t want to use writing as a mirror, or at least not anymore. I'd much rather use it as a window — something I can look through and through which others can look back without losing their own reflection in the process. The work already knows what to say. I just have to trust it.

So, if you’re in the process of writing your own truth — whether it’s on a blog, in a notebook, or maybe even just in your imagination while doing the dishes after dinner — I hope you know you don’t owe anyone the whole story. Just focus on the part that feels ready and wants to be known. And if all you write today is one honest sentence to yourself, that’s more than enough.

* Another brick in the wall for the Feast of the Wandering Pen, a movable celebration all about showing up no matter what.

4 Ways Getting into AI Art Has Made Me a Better Writer

Juicy Burger - Shannon Hilson via Midjourney

So, as anyone who follows me elsewhere online probably knows by now, I've really been going down the rabbit hole with Midjourney and the wonders of AI-generated art lately. At first, it was really just this fun curiosity to dink around with in my spare time. However, it's since evolved into a real asset to the way I create things and explore all my different ideas.

It's also become an indispensable part of how I write and manage my online presence. Really, at one point, I really thought I'd cared about creating any kind of visual art for the last time in my life. But Midjourney has truly proven to me that I should probably never say never. Apparently, I still very much love expressing myself this way, and giving AI a try has turned out to be a very positive decision for me. 

Getting into Midjourney has also made me a better writer in some interesting ways, as well, and I can totally see where it could easily do the same for others in the larger online writing community. Here are some examples of what I'm talking about.

1. I don't have to scrounge for stock photos anymore

Not if I don't want to, anyway. I don't have to settle for choosing between good images that are seriously overused and lesser-known options that really don't fit what I'm posting very well, either. If there's a stock photo or a public domain graphic that suits my purposes for a particular post, then great. But I love that I'm no longer limited to those. 

This is especially the case when it comes to content that's tough to match with existing imagery anyway -- like creative non-fiction, personal essays, or short stories. Now I can just use AI images I may already have made. Or I can whip something up that fits in minutes. I've made custom illustrations for some of my creative writing, artwork for book covers, and more as well. It's been fantastic.

On Life and What I've Been Up to Creatively Lately

Original Image by Shannon Hilson via Midjourney

I swear I don't know where the damn time goes when it comes to these blogs I still like to tell myself I maintain. I'll realize it's been a while since my last update, but when I finally make it over to the platform to type something up, I'll see it's actually been... like... months. So long in some cases that the entire posting interface is totally different, as is apparently the case with Blogger today.

I know I keep saying this, and I'll say it again (to whatever audience I still have left or might have at any point in the future). Don't take breaks when it comes to your personal writing. I don't care how many awesome clients want to pay you good money for your time, expertise, and labor. A week off so easily turns into a month, and that so easily turns into several months. Before you know it, you're back to wondering whether you even know how to write a decent blog post anymore and unsure of where to start figuring it out.

Instead, treat whatever type of writing you want to make sure you keep doing -- blogging, newsletters, journaling, fiction, poetry, fortune cookie sayings, what have you -- with the same seriousness you would your paying freelance work. Try not to worry too much about whether it makes you money because God knows that's my problem. I have a tendency to spend my time and writing energy wherever the money is at any given time, but self-expression is crucial, too, which you'll realize if you neglect it long enough.

On Clients and Freelance Work

My original reason for taking a bit of a break from blogging and other types of writing (with the exception of the private journaling I do for the sake of my sanity and the creative writing I pump out every year during NaNoWriMo) was an abundance of well-paying freelance work that fell in my lap. It was mostly thanks to one client for whom I loved writing and still enjoy writing. But they've been revamping some things on their end lately.

Some of the revamps had to do with their reimagining their SEO strategy, which meant the blog project they had me working on became less of a priority. They're also going through some staffing changes. The editor I'd gotten to know and had been working with this entire time left last Friday, and I was honestly pretty bummed about that, as I genuinely liked the guy and enjoyed working with him. 

I don't yet know the new editor or her vision for that blog moving forward, and they're likely still figuring it out themselves. But for the immediate moment, I don't have a ton to do as far as assignments from that company go. That leaves me with a little free time on my hands after I'm done seeing to my other regulars. It feels weird to have time again, but I'm going to see if I can't use it to reestablish some sort of regular writing habit here.

On Returning After an Unplanned Hiatus and Thanksgiving

Haynes King - The Letter

So here I am -- back from a somewhat involuntary break from blogging and working on getting back into the swing of things. I didn't plan things that way, but I did wind up busier than I needed to be, so I had to make a few judgment calls on the fly. I'm no longer willing to risk burnout or cut into my personal time with my husband to get ungodly amounts of work done, so I decided to simply put a couple of things on hold instead.

Sadly, blogging didn't make the cut as far as my writing life goes, but in retrospect, the break seems to have been good for me. Not only do I feel less poopy about certain things I'd been feeling poopy about, but I'm genuinely excited to get back into the groove after some time away. I've really missed expressing my thoughts this way and interacting with other writers on Medium and across all my social media channels.

As for what I have been up to, I did indeed wind up participating in this year's NaNoWriMo event. And I won, as these days I try to follow through on the writing commitment I make to myself come hell or high water. So that means I have a whole new collection of short stories under my belt -- one for every day in November. 

In April, I'll probably edit it for Camp NaNoWriMo and then begin releasing the stories one by one after that, as that worked out remarkably well last year. In the meantime, I still have plenty of stories leftover from last year's event that still haven't seen the light of day, so I'll still be floating the occasional fiction piece out there in the meantime. 

I've also been really busy with my copywriting business. I started writing marketing-themed content for a new client toward the end of October, and it's been working out really well so far. Not only does he toss me a good amount of work and pay me really well for it, but he eventually invited me to become a credited contributor to his company's blog. That means that although he's still my client and I'm still a hired freelancer, I'm no longer a ghostwriter as far as this particular client is concerned. And I'm stoked about it.

As anyone who's known me or read my stuff for long knows, I've had kind of a love/hate relationship with freelancing, in general, and ghostwriting, in particular when it comes to my writing. On the one hand, I love earning my living doing something like this instead of killing myself behind a cash register or a reception desk somewhere. But I don't always love letting other people take credit for content I worked hard on, especially when that content contains a lot of myself. 

I do occasionally still take one-off assignments about odd topics I don't really care about, but as I've gained experience, I've also niched down quite a lot. Most of the material I write for my regulars these days is on topics that I'm genuinely interested in and knowledgeable about -- like marketing, food, or relationships -- so it's not always easy to just give it away and let someone else take the credit for it. Being given a byline by this new client has really made me feel seen and valued in an exciting new way, so I'll be pursuing more opportunities like that in the future for sure.

On the Closing of a Most Productive August

Typewriter - Geliy Korzhev-Chuvelev (1961)

A strange thing I've noticed about the effects of writing and publishing personal essays and similar material. When I am very candid in what I create, I'm left feeling like I've been picking at old scabs or otherwise aggravating old wounds afterward. But it's not as disgusting or negative as it probably sounds. On the contrary, it's actually kind of therapeutic.

For one thing, I find revisiting some of these themes -- especially the ones that are harder for me to think about -- is pretty validating. People relate to and sympathize with these experiences to a much greater extent than I ever figured. It's also allowed me to better understand my thought process at various times, as I've lost touch with it over the years. I used to wonder what the hell I was thinking when I did things like marry my ex or choose to tolerate other people's toxic behavior instead of shutting it down, but I actually remember now. And it makes it easier to be kind to my former self instead of simply writing her off as a coward or a dumb-ass the way I used to.

That said, I've actually finished all four of my entries for Medium's writing contest as of last night. All of them were very personal, and most also found me touching on experiences that are sometimes hard for me to talk about. I don't expect to win or anything (although I certainly wouldn't complain if I did), but I can honestly say I'm proud of what I put out there and think I represented myself well. I also really fell in love with writing creative nonfiction and plan on exploring it further in the future.

On Falling Back in Love With Parts of Your Writing Identity

Melody of Rain - Michael Cheval (2015)

So, I've been sucking to high heaven at staying on top of my writing goals lately. Kind of, anyway. I still have plenty of time to put together some decent stuff, but I have yet to do more than brainstorm when it comes to my essays for Medium's big August writing contest. It's not like I haven't been plenty busy, though. 

I've had more work to do for clients than I've taken on in a while, but that's actually been strangely refreshing. Like a lot of creative people, I really crave variety in my work, so it's never a bad idea to switch things up once in a while. I've been pouring so much into my blogging and personal work lately that freelancing actually felt like a welcome departure from the norm instead of a grind I desperately need a break from. I talk a good game about leaving copywriting behind forever one day when (and if) I ever experience a big breakthrough with any of the rest of my writing. But I doubt I ever actually will. 

If I'm honest with myself, there are things I do like about it and will probably always like about it. Some part of me enjoys putting myself in the shoes of different audiences, educating others, and finding the right words to make a specific product or service sound inviting. Plus, I know some of the bigger writers in my circle have fallen madly in love with big-ticket private ghostwriting -- something to potentially consider if I ever make it to that level. There's always another level to move up to, it seems.

That said, let this be a reminder to any writer who thinks they've fallen out of love with any style of writing they once loved to produce. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so it's worth taking a little time away from something and coming back to it later regardless of how "done" you think you are with it. (That's how I rekindled my interest in creative writing months ago, as well.) In fact, I'm beginning to think writers never truly outgrow aspects of who they are and what they like to do with their words. 

Assorted Stuff and Randomness

The Luncheon of the Boating Party - Pierre-Auguste Renoir

My head's been full of weird, existential thoughts lately. Much to the disappointment of people who actually know me, that doesn't always make me the greatest company, but it's been great for my writing. Good. It's been a while since I felt properly full of writing ideas that haven't either been done to death or that just don't quite scan for whatever reason. I haven't been doing too badly at sticking to my publishing schedule lately, either. 

The weather seems to have finally gotten the memo that it's June, as it's been feeling an awful lot like summer lately in ways I don't like. It's been warm, it's getting humid, and the combination of both has been making my soul feel like coming out of my body and floating away somewhere. This has never been my favorite time of year, as I don't like warm weather one little bit. But after last year, summer brings with it a certain amount of fear, as well. I'm trying very hard not to think about wildfires. I really hope the powers that be are better prepared to handle such things this time around.

Seth and I have been trying to make the most of things by using the mild-to-warm weather as an excuse to spend more time outside. We usually eat dinner in the kitchen, but lately, it's been warmer than I'd like in there for sitting, especially after I've just gotten done cooking. Being outside gives me a chance to cool off. Plus, it's actually been nice getting a little bit of sun and fresh air. My body and constitution seem to like it, even if my mind isn't always a fan. 

........

My writer's mind keeps circling back to creative writing quite consistently lately. I'm surprised, actually. Truly creative, imaginative storytelling is something I thought I wasn't interested in anymore and no longer knew how to do. It's been interesting to find out that not only still can I write like that -- and reasonably well -- but that my mind still readily goes there on command and naturally seems to come up with really unique ideas. 

On Writing About the Tough Stuff

I seem to have reached a turning point with some of my writing lately that I thought was still a few years down the line -- the point where I'm no longer just thinking about telling my more challenging stories, but actually sitting down and writing them. And then I've been going and posting them in front of actual people instead of just pouring my soul out into my journal and calling it a day. The topics are all over the place, but they include things to do with my upbringing, my complicated relationships with my parents, some of the abuse I experienced while married to my ex, and so forth. 

I've been at it here and there for a few months now, and it's been a strange experience, especially when it comes to things I'm talking about for the first time. I often wind up feeling like I picked at a freshly-formed scab or lanced an infected boil -- sort of gross at first, with a lingering feeling of just having done something I shouldn't have, but then much better afterward when the pain is gone. I think doing this has made some of these things easier to bear and continue healing from.

I feel like I need to cheer up a little bit soon, though. I don't want to develop a reputation for being someone who complains all the time and never seems to have anything positive to say. I'm a much more joyful, grateful person than I let on a lot of the time -- even on days when I'm not feeling my emotional best. But sometimes, I find it valuable and worthwhile to look at some of the more challenging aspects of my existence through my writing. Here are a few insights for those of you who may be trying to do something similar.

Start by journaling in private first.

I'm not sure exactly what I expected when I started keeping a private journal again a little over a year ago. I thought it would be fun -- a throwback to my younger years when I journaled ferociously, and I knew it would be helpful in working through things without having to bother other people for a shoulder all the time. I didn't really expect it to change much about the rest of my writing, but that's exactly what wound up happening. 

4 Things You Learn About Yourself by Putting Your Writing Out There

I've had lots of experiences that have helped me see myself with more clarity over the years but starting to put my writing out there where people can actually read it is definitely toward the top of the list. These days I write many different types of material for lots of different reasons, and each has been educational in its own way. 

But I've probably learned the most from the raw, personal stuff I've written from the heart right before sharing it with the rest of the world on Medium or somewhere similar. Some of those lessons were joys to learn, while others were honestly pretty sobering. All of them were valuable. 

Yours will be, too, if you're an aspiring writer -- especially at the point where your writing goes from vegetating in some obscure corner of the internet to actually being read and shared. Yes, it's what writers think they want, and it can be pretty darned great when it happens, but some unexpected insights come with it, as well. The following are good examples.

1. What Your Readers Actually Want to See from You

If you're lucky, there might be some overlap between that and what you personally enjoy writing, but I wouldn't hold my breath. You also might find that what readers want to see from you isn't the same as what they want to see from Jim Bob or Jane Doe. That means you're probably not going to have much luck copying another writer's exact trajectory from relative obscurity to success. I don't care what they promised you in that expensive course they sold you.

Some niches just plain have a broader appeal than others. Whether they admit it or not, most people want to be richer, better, more talented, or more attractive. They want better relationships, a stronger sense of self, and a more prosperous life, as well, so those will always be good topics to write about if you want to be read. But the image you project will have a lot to do with how well you do.

An Odd Start to a New Month

May's been off to a bizarre start so far. I feel like it's been full of niggling irritations and lots of little things randomly going wrong. For instance, yesterday, some guy wrapped his pick-up truck around a pole outside the grocery store down the street. To the best of my knowledge, no one was hurt, including the driver. 

He did manage to knock the power out for at least a few blocks, though, including the power at our house. I knew something good and fucked up had just happened because I heard this loud, almost apocalyptic electric humming outside right before the power went out. Then, later, there was all this smoke in the sky that smelled like burnt wires and electricity. 

Thankfully, we have a gas stove, so I could still finish making dinner despite having to do it in semi-darkness. And I certainly thought we were going to be without power for a good long while, which put me in a pretty bad mood, but thankfully everything was back up and running by the time I was ready to fix everyone's plates. I had a tight deadline to meet for a client before I'd be able to go to bed that night, so it was a huge relief not to have to thumb out the last couple of articles I had to finish on my phone with what was left of my battery charge. 

The whole month of May so far, not to mention the last few days of April, have been kind of like that, though. Many annoying little setbacks you can't possibly plan for, like other people dropping the ball or clients expecting to drastically change the scope of projects without any notice -- that sort of thing. I feel woefully behind with a lot of the things I've wanted to do, especially when it comes to writing. I guess that's life, though -- a constant rotating game of "feast or famine."

If You Want to Be a Great Writer, Be a Teachable One

Not that long ago, someone posted a screencap of an interaction from Medium's private note function to one of the writing groups I belong to. The screencap showed a polite, very standard rejection note from the editor of one of Medium's bigger pubs. And below it was a horrible, vitriolic response from the writer basically cussing the editor out and telling him to go fuck himself. As a writer who writes and submits many places, Medium included, that shocked the shit out of me -- all that anger triggered by someone saying they'll pass on a piece this time but are looking forward to reading future submissions. 

I am familiar with the publication in question and that editor, so I can certainly say he was the last person who deserved to be spoken to like that. This editor found a self-published Medium piece of mine last summer and encouraged me to let him add it to his publication. The owner of the pub then championed that article and promoted the holy heck out of it. The original editor also continued to leave me kind, encouraging notes when it did well. 

That piece became my highest earner, and I owe that to the team behind that pub. This particular editor is also among the friendliest and most considerate I've ever interacted with on Medium. He's always cool about it when he does decide to reject a submission, and he's a total professional. So the writer who told him off really stepped in it, as Medium editors tend to know one another and talk behind the scenes. If you want to get ahead as a writer -- on Medium or anywhere else -- don't be like that writer. Be gracious, be teachable, and keep points like the following in mind.

Rejections are normal, common, and happen to everyone. 

Listen, I get it. It never feels good to work up the courage to show your work to someone and ask them to publish it only to have them say they're not interested or, worse, to rip it apart. But it comes with the territory when you hope to be published by someone other than yourself. Even writers like Stephen King have stories about the many rejection letters they've gotten over the years, so yes. It really does happen to everyone.

On Turning Forty-Fucking-Five

So, it's my birthday tomorrow. I'm hoping it's a vast improvement on last year's, and so far, so good. As I'm sure everyone remembers all too well, right about this time last year, COVID officially reached pandemic status. Everyone was panic-buying toilet paper, pasta, beans, and just about anything else they could get their hands on. And, like everyone else, I was having terrible trouble even wrapping my mind around the fact that we were facing a fucking plague of biblical proportions.

Unfortunately for us, we were almost entirely out of food at the time, as I was waiting until closer to my birthday to do some shopping. That turned out to be a huge mistake, as none of the stores had a damn thing left. Not even a can of beans or a package of hamburger, let alone the lobster ravioli and pesto sauce I wanted for my birthday dinner or the corned beef I wanted for St. Patrick's Day. I somehow managed to score a lemon bundt cake for dessert, but that's all, and the pickings stayed pretty slim around here for a while.

I've been hyper-paranoid about running out of food ever since. I was never someone who believed the fridge and pantry had to be stuffed as full as possible to feel like there was enough to eat, but now I totally am. I'm still careful not to waste food and to make sure everything gets eaten promptly, but I grocery shop every week now, whether we really need it or not. I'm also extra-prepared this year for all our upcoming festivities. I have a heritage-breed ham and a corned beef hanging out in the freezer for Easter and St. Patrick's Day, respectively. And you bet your ass I have that lobster ravioli and fresh pesto I didn't get last year in the fridge already.

I'm turning 45 this year, which just feels plain odd. I still think of 45 as my parents' age, even though they're both well into their 70s by now. I've loved being in my 40s for the most part, though. I'm saner, more grounded, and more grateful at this age by a landslide. I actually stick with things that I start now -- positive things like daily exercise, balanced eating, productive writing routines, and regular quality time spent with my husband. I feel dangerously close to being one of those people who have their shit together, and it's a nice feeling after being so restless and undisciplined most of my life. 

On Being Female and Writing on the Internet

A funny thing happens when you go from no one giving a flying fuck who you are or what you write about to actually having an audience somewhere that's growing, no matter how slowly. Suddenly, you're no longer just writing for yourself or for a handful of friends who would be interested in almost anything you put out there because they're interested in you. You're writing for people who know nothing about you beyond what they can glean from your content. 

Most are also less interested in you as a person and more interested in what you can teach them or how reading you can make their lives better. Some of those people will be total strangers, and it turns out the experience of writing for such people is a mixed bag. You often get to find out what others honestly think of you because they'll tell you in no uncertain terms sometimes. Hopefully, you've got a thick skin and a relatively down-to-earth mental image of who you are and what you're really about because you will need them.

The vast majority of the folks who interact with my content or decide to get in touch with me outside of Medium because of something I wrote are lovely. They enjoy my writing, get something useful out of it, and want to thank me for writing it in the first place or ask me a question about something I said. I've also had people point out specifics that they enjoy in my work that make me look at myself in a different, more positive light. One of the things I hear the most often is that people dig my authenticity and my strong sense of self. I've even had certain individuals, especially other women, tell me the way I present myself inspires them, and that makes me feel pretty darned good about being me.

But there are always a few sour apples in every barrel. As a heterosexual woman on the internet who frequently writes very frankly on topics like relationships and dating, I've attracted my share of incels and "nice guys" who feel personally attacked by some of the things I have to say. They especially don't want to hear those things from a woman who's attractive, happily married, and old enough to have been around the block a couple of times. It makes it harder to default to insulting my looks or pointing out that I'm single or divorced as proof that I don't know what I'm talking about. They're forced to actually consider my words instead, and that's not something overgrown man-babies like to do. At all. 

On the Origins of My Life as a Writer

Julianne Moore as Evelyn Ryan -- The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio (2005)

I've had people ask me in the past whether I always knew I wanted to be a writer because of how much I talk about loving what I do, but truth be told? Not really. I was considered gifted as a child, and I was good at a lot of different things. But for some reason, no one seemed to think writing was my most impressive skill. I did write a lot and enjoy it, but I got a lot more attention for being good at drawing and painting, so most of the authority figures in my life figured I'd grow up to be an artist.

I actually turned out to be one of those gifted kids who never really belong anywhere or gel well with anyone. I'm not what you'd call a team player, and I've always had a reputation for being downright weird. I'm nice enough, but I also don't necessarily like being around people. I'm introverted, highly solitary, and will typically choose to be by myself unless I get along unusually well with someone. I've also never really been what you'd call ambitious. I've always preferred to just stay home and hated anything that required me to be anywhere else for very long, including school and pretty much any traditional working environment.

I tried a few different jobs on for size in my 20s, including vet teching -- the job my mother wanted me to have. I also found most of the things I tried intolerable because of the weird hours and excessive overtime I was expected to put in. I spent most of my 20s working retail for that reason. I detested all the people contact and forced cheerfulness, of course, but the hours were at least flexible, and if I worked on commission, I could afford to pay my bills working only four days a week.

On Channeling My Inner Carrie Bradshaw

Seth and I finished rewatching The Tudors and are now heavy into a rewatch of Sex and the City. We were really into this show when we first got together years and years ago at this point, so this is bringing back a lot of fond memories. However, so much about it hits completely different these days. For one thing, some of the episodes have aged a lot more gracefully than others. I'm also processing the vast majority of the characters and plotlines a lot differently now that I'm only a couple of weeks away from my 45th birthday. 

Sometimes remembering my 20s -- the way I thought, the things I enjoyed, and everything I thought I wanted out of life -- is like remembering someone else's life. I never would have thought back then that I'd grow into someone with such simple needs and wants. For instance, I wouldn't necessarily spit on the opportunity to travel or explore the world if it came my way at this point, but it's not something I can't imagine my life without anymore. The same cannot be said for things like home-cooked dinners at home with my partner or large, quiet chunks of time to write and create things.

When I first discovered Sex and the City as an idealistic, energetic 20-something, I related a lot to Carrie. But it was mostly because she was quirky, restless, and plagued by relationship troubles. Like Carrie, I thought I was commitment-oriented, but I never seemed to be happy anytime I was actually in a relationship. I also had more trouble being faithful to people than I like to admit. Any little thing that went wrong in my relationships was more than enough to inspire me to dump a partner or -- at the very least -- start looking over their shoulder for someone else. This time around, I no longer relate to this side of Carrie. I do remember what it was like to feel that way, but that's about it.

Soul-Tired on a Friday

I'm so glad it's Friday. I've been dog-tired this week -- the kind of tired that isn't just physical. It's soul-tired, and as is often the case with me, I couldn't really say for sure why I feel this way. There's nothing crazy going on in my personal life. I'm not overworked, burnt out, or frustrated with any of my clients right now. My brain appears to be chewing on something, though, even if it's just doing that weird thing it does and chewing on itself.

One way I know this is the positively bizarre dreams I've been having at night. They don't make much sense, but they come with intense emotions that don't fit the dreams' events whatsoever. For instance, the other night, I was dreaming about a bunch of young priests eating mashed potatoes on a bus. Something about this scanned as very ominous and was giving me horrible anxiety. And then some of them started putting gravy on the mashed potatoes, which was apparently such cause for alarm that I woke myself up out of a sound sleep. Hopefully, I'll go back to sleeping well and having normal dreams soon.

Thankfully, I could kind of see the writing on the wall with my energy levels earlier in the week, so I decided not to fill my schedule but so full as I moved closer to the weekend. As a result, I don't have any freelancing obligations to take care of today and can focus on my own writing for a change -- one reason I'm updating this blog on a Friday instead of leaving it until some point over the weekend or even Monday. It's cloudy out, and I'm just sitting here in my nice, dark room vibing to some Taylor Swift -- not a bad way to end a week at all.

On Changing Perspectives as We Age and News Break

We've been really into stories about kings and queens lately, so we've most recently been rewatching The Tudors. I'm also repeatedly reminded of how differently I can process stories and characters as I age. As someone who loved history growing up, especially the history of medieval England, I always found the stories about Henry VIII and all of his wives especially intriguing. In particular, I was absolutely nuts about Anne Boleyn.

The younger me related deeply to Anne because I saw myself in her. I loved how outspoken and opinionated she was. I liked that although she didn't necessarily fit the beauty standards of the time, she managed to go down in history as a beauty anyway. I loved that she didn't place "sensible" limits on what she thought she could achieve. For instance, it never even occurred to her that wanting to be queen was reaching too high. She made up her mind that she wanted it, and she got it. 

And, of course, Catherine of Aragon -- the sitting queen and Henry's wife -- was on the other side of that equation. She was older and infertile. Henry loved her once but grew tired of her. She was in the way of what he really wanted -- to have Anne as his wife instead -- and she became highly inconvenient because of that fact. Never mind that she was a wonderful queen and beloved by the people of England. The younger me didn't particularly like Catherine. I remember thinking she should be less stubborn, accept that Henry didn't want her anymore, and step aside gracefully so Anne could be queen. 

Having not read or watched anything about the Tudors in some time, that whole story hits entirely differently now that I'm in my 40s. Anne scans like a spoiled little brat who needed to stay in her lane and not go after things that didn't belong to her. And Catherine comes across as good, decent, admirable, and deserving of so much better than she got. I still found the death of Anne Boleyn to be horribly tragic, but that's about it. Don't even get me started on how Henry VIII was just an awful person and a blight on humanity in many different ways.

A Few Year's End Thoughts on Writing, Inspiration, and Ideas

With Christmas and New Year's Day having fallen on Fridays this year, I don't know whether I'm coming or going at this point. On the one hand, I don't really take vacations anymore, as it just doesn't make sense for my writing career right now. That makes the occasional long weekend extra important, though, and I've realized just how badly I needed some downtime these past couple of weeks.

Naturally, 2020 was stressful for me for all the same reasons it was stressful for everyone. But it's also been a very productive year for me personally. I never would have seen that coming at this same time last year, but it just goes to show you that you never know what's around the corner. It does pay to hang in there and keep trucking, even when you're sure you're not getting anywhere. 

In fact, the past twelve months have done something for me that I wasn't sure could be done after well over a decade of full-time professional writing. It gave me new reasons to get excited about sitting down to write, as well as new chances to do precisely the kind of writing I've always wanted to do as far as my living goes. I'm currently working on becoming my own version of Carrie Bradshaw, and it's been both fun and lucrative so far -- a winning combination if ever there was one. 

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Our Christmas and New Year's celebrations were blissfully low-key. I slow-cooked a ham for Christmas and made pork chops with homemade mac and cheese, black-eyed peas, and collard greens for New Year's. I also baked for a change -- gingerbread for Christmas and sugar cookies for New Year's. I often forget just how special homemade baked goods can make a holiday, but I enjoyed them immensely this year -- both the baking and the eating. 

Seth and I spent our time enjoying being together, as well as catching up on movies and television we'd missed in recent months and years. We watched HBO's Chernobyl, which we just finished last night. We also watched an absolutely fantastic movie called I'm Thinking of Ending Things. It was written and directed by Charlie Kaufman, the same writer responsible for another long-time favorite of mine -- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.