Ah, people, Ashleigh has written the post to end all posts about a return to story telling on our blogs. About going back to the way it used to be when we, or rather, I started writing so many years ago. Well, I never actually changed the way I wrote, because I looked at all the new-fangled words like "monetise" and "brand" and broke out in a rash. An uncomfortable one.
Ashleigh puts it beautifully. Please read her post.
There are times when I am so glad to be ever so slightly older than most bloggers, because with that advancing age comes the license to do what I want and to heck with the rest. I hate being confined. Restricted. This is the equivalent to declaring my intention of wearing purple. (Missy will be delighted. Purple is the current favourite colour.) I want to just tell the ordinary stories of my days, my dreams, my life, my times. Not because it is wildly exciting, but because there is a certain delight in finding the extraordinary in the mundane. And heaven knows we do mundane very well around these parts.
Of course, no-one may want to hear about the laundry or the failure of the gem squash to grow into seedlings, but hey, this is my corner and we all know I tend to write exactly what I feel like writing here, now don't we?
I have talked about this before - the way we set about being the brave pioneers in the blogging world. Well, 7-8 years ago, it was uncharted territory. Those blogging years were personal times. Do you remember Heather and her brain cancer? And her beautiful little girl, Emma? Do you remember Angie's Audrey? And Kelli and her search for a kidney? And Scribbit? Boomama? Big Mama? Owlhaven? Linda? Morning Glory? Susie? Barb? Antique Mommy? Jeana? Shannon? Chris? Crystal? Heidi? Jewels? Chris? So many more. Not many of these wonderful ladies blog any more. That saddens me.
I lie. It really does so much more than that. I miss them. I miss the community of storytellers. Of sharing their lives. A status update on Facebook is never going to be the same. Births. Deaths. Anguish. Celebrations. Weddings. Divorce.
Morning Glory had the Alphabet Soup idea - we wrote random posts once a week, following through the alphabet each week, and did we ever have wildly differing words! It was a delight. I know single words can trigger an avalanche of ideas or memories, and that was what we were - are - good at. Being keepers of the memories.
There is no place for all those words ending in "ise", you see. I don't have a target market. Being human is enough of a requirement. Fallible, quirky, fun. I want to talk about how living out my days provides a wealth of stories, of both pathos and jubilation. Life is 90% ordinary and 10% extraordinary. Believe me, talking about simple things is infinitely more desirable than dwelling on the Other Stuff.
So, as I have said before, I make no apologies for the talk of gardens and growing things and village life in Middle England. Of church, and children, and grandchildren and friends. Of Alps and lakes and mountains and oceans. Of trains, planes, cable cars and flat tyres. There is colour there - even in the frustration of standing in a ditch beside a motorway.
So, the stories go on. Just as they always have..............