I need You to know how grateful I am that You stop by to have a look at what I have to say, and how much difference You, oh-great-and-wonderful-readers-of-my-blog make to my life. Truly ruly.
For many years, I made my scrunchy-nosed as-if face and a noise a bit like pffffftt at the mere notion of having a blog. Keep a journal, I said. Nobody cares what you think or do, I reasoned. Get a real life and don't bore others and clog up cyberspace with your stupid thoughts and feelings, I bossily advised myself.
My attitude to blogging was a bit like this:
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And I'd like to pretend that over the years I'd become so happily addicted to reading scads of hilarious and informative and engaging blogs that I finally decided to bite the bullet and have a crack at joining their ranks, but that'd be another lie. I hadn't read any blogs until I started trying to create one. Yep. Dumb-ass.
After I did the 30-day challenge last November, I wrote about how and why and what I felt about being a beginner blogger in a post I called The Blog of Eternal Stench. Well, here I am almost at the end of April, and another month-long blogfest challenge, and although I haven't travelled very far down the road to achieving the blogosphere's definition of success — I still only have the number of followers you could count on one hand— I have leapt ahead in my understanding of how much it means to me that there is a space for me to write into.
Having even a tiny audience is a joy. I'm not trying to run a business or sell my books or promote myself through my blog. I'm just loving have a space into which I can throw my voice so that somebody hears it. Written expression is integral to me being me. I need to carefully arrange specific words in particular order to make sense of things. To connect with the world. To prove that I exist.
So when you pop over to to The Rock for a visit, I know I'm real. And when you leave me a message, I do a little mental happy-dance. People. Contact. Yippee.
Thanks to You.
Wendy of The Rock