I remember when I began blogging.

My intent was to write. That’s it.

My daughter had a blog. It was lovely. It was sweet. I loved it so very much.

When I began blogging, I was clueless on followers. Then I had a book idea, memoir.

It was the best title, best concept, most ingenious combining of story, art, recovery.

Goodness, that was long ago.

Trying to be famous enough to be a writer was exhausting.

Lately, I keep wondering who might be open to my question…

Is it possible to write a book without having throngs of people flocking to know you?

Was there a time when numbers of those who knew you didn’t matter?

Was there a time a newsletter wasn’t necessary to have a voice worth hearing, words worth reading?

I considered these questions as I quietly paid my annual WordPress fee to keep my space here.

I remember, years ago, I told a blogger friend.

I don’t want to be perky little Christian woman writing about her beliefs in Jesus.

I want to be me.

So, if I’ve accomplished anything.

I believe, book or no, I’ve accomplished this.

Who’s to say if the book idea is long buried or it was a teeny tiny seed I’ve yet to harvest.

Time will tell.

Until then, I’ll keep writing here.

Unconcerned with who follows, only hoping I make them curious.

A southerner who loves words and loves writing, an artist who keeps creating.

Because she’s sure God kept her and made her to continue.

Continue and believe.

Thanks for reading. 😊