(Hello! Yes, I’m still in D.C., and yes, I still don’t have Internet. This is a little something I worked up for you in my absence, because I knew I’d miss you. Enjoy!)
When you decide to start a blog, there are a lot of things no one tells you. Like how you’ll learn to be simultaneously embarrassed and proud of this thing that bears your name and can be read by anyone. When talking to new people, and the subject of blogging comes up—you won’t know whether to admit you have one or to clear your throat and change the subject. At its worst, blogging is open diary or bland narrative. But at its best, writing your thoughts down will start to feel like talking to an old friend. You’ll actually look forward to sitting down at the computer screen, organizing your memories, and by extension your life, into a few paragraphs of type. When things are gray —as they are often for me—putting them into black and white can be a great kind of therapy.
Of course, therapy was never meant to be read by the world. And therein lies the problem.
When I started this blog, I think 14 or so people read it. Total. Even that was a little strange, as they were all my friends, and I’d see them sometimes and not know if I should ask them about it or wait for them to bring it up. Now, hundreds of you read it every day, and I have no idea who you are, but for those of you who leave comments from time to time or send me e-mails.
It seems a little one-sided, you know? You read about my family and my weekends and my botched artichokes, and I don’t know very much about you but that you’re nice enough to stop by.
Let’s do something about that, OK?
I have a few ideas.
(1) You could leave a comment on this post, complete with a link to your own blog if you’d like, and tell me a little bit about you. I’d love it.
(2) If you’re not ready to comment, you could shoot me an e-mail: Shannalee@foodloveswriting.com. I read every one.
(3) For everyone who’s interested, I’ve created a little online survey and you’d make me so happy if you’d take it. Click Here to take survey.
When I get back from my trip, I look forward to knowing you better while I tell you all about the cherry blossoms and statue of Abe Lincoln and, well, whatever else ends up being wonderful. Thanks for reading. You’re great.
P.S. – That photo? It’s of a brown butter tart, which, unfortunately, looked a lot better than it tasted. And that’s all I’ll say about that.