“Make a home on the internet- people are going to want to know where to find you.”
As soon as she said those words, something locked into place.
For the past year or so, I’ve heavily resisted the idea of creating a blog. I’m not sure where the resistance came from, all I know is that it was strong and it was real and it was clear: I did not under any circumstances want to blog. I wanted to write. I am a writer, not a blogger. I don’t take pictures or cook Pinterest worthy meals. I am not an interior designer or DIY extraordinaire. And I am the last person on Earth who should have a lifestyle or fashion blog.
So I began publishing my work on other outlets, trying to prove that you don't need to have your own blog to be successful on the internet. And while that has been an amazing experience, and one that I will continue to pursue, it felt like something was missing.
It felt like pieces of my work were scattered. Like I was a dandelion who had blown all my seeds away. I was untethered.
I began to crave a place where my writing could live. I wanted a space where I could practice my craft on my terms. I wanted a room of my own. I was craving a home. And not so people could find me, but so I could find myself.
This isn't your typical blog. I'm not trying to sell you anything. I don't have any wisdom or answers. This is not a humble brag, check out my stylized Instagram-ed life, kinda place. This is a space where I can be free and open. Where I tell it like it is. This is a space where shit gets real.
When you visit here, I want you to settle in. I want you to kick your feet up. I want to make you coffee and feed you banana bread. I want you to feel relaxed, valued, seen.
And I want the freedom to do the same. I want to welcome you into my home and resist the urge to clean the floors. I’ll leave the dust bunnies where they are. I’ll let the clutter sit on the table. I’ll be brave enough to let you see me- stains and all.
I’m not sure what I’ll write about here. There will be no theme or set protocol. There isn’t going to be an editorial calendar. The copy won’t be crisp and neat. There will likely be typos and run on sentences. But it will be a space for my writing to grow and stretch its legs. It’ll be a place for practice and lessons and nurturing.
And I hope it’ll also be a space for community. I hope you’ll introduce yourself and stay awhile. I hope the words you find here will make you think and make you laugh. I hope you’ll leave feeling happy you stopped by. I hope it makes you feel like home.