It occurred to me yesterday that I might be doing you a disservice.
Some of you are here for this:
And I keep shouting about this:
Which is only natural.
I mean, I started this blog over 1100 posts and four years ago when I had a new baby and not much to do. My pictures were of a frazzled mom and a chubby little girl, and I ranted about motherhood, society's wrongs, and trying to find yourself after becoming a mom.
And then I got pregnant and ranted about pregnancy. And then I had another baby and blabbered on about the perils of having two children and losing weight and, again, trying to find yourself.
And then? I found myself.
And you guys were here for that, too. I talked about writing my first book, about querying, about failing, and failing again, and then, after much hard work, about succeeding. Sure, every now and then, there were cute conversations or photos of t.rex and the biscuit hugging each other or beating each other with lightsabers, but the tone of the blog definitely began to change.
And now here we are. I have a five-year-old and a three-year-old, and writing has become a full-time job. And I think I may have gotten a little too excited about the time leading up to my first book launch. When I scroll through the blog, all I see are picture after picture of a half-naked vampire dude and me squealing about things that most of you probably don't care about. I've been sharing what makes me excited right now, but I'm guessing that not many of my 329 followers can relate.
So I want to know. If you're still reading, what do you actually like to read about? Why do you come here? Would you keep coming here if it changed?
This blog started out as an escape for me, as a way to share and connect with people and remember as much as I could of the dizzying years of early parenthood. I'm so grateful to everyone who read then, who reads now, who comments and tells me I'm not alone.
I hope you'll keep coming here.
I hope I'll give you a reason to do so.