New year, new blog, new domain.

I could pretend this was an intentional way to kick off 2017, yay fresh start and all that and post some artfully arranged daffodils in a jam jar to signify new life or whatever. But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

I fucked up.

In a medicated haze of “yeah, maybe later”, I decided to ignore the glaringly urgent emails screaming that my domain name was about to expire, thinking they already had my details to take their $26.00 and all would work out fine when I looked the other way long enough.

But it didn’t. They didn’t. And now almost 5 years worth of writing has disappeared because of twenty six sodding dollars. The comments, the links, all the complicated stuff in the background I still don’t fully understand. Gone. Poof.

Why? Because at the time I was happy without writing and I thought blogging was dead anyway. I liked knowing it was there if I needed it, ya know, like ice cream or 26 episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras on my Sky planner. But once it was gone I immediately knew I wanted it back. Cos ya know, that’s how shit works.

It’s been so long since I’ve written anything properly, let’s be honest, aside from stuff I’ve been paid to write and the thing is, do people even read normal blogs anymore? If they don’t come with professionally published candid books or quirky jumpers and tote bags to buy in the sidebar? Or without viral stories where you’re pictured pointing at something that has gone out of it’s way to wrong you personally (picture with snivelling child for extra bonus points)?

The answer is, I don’t know.

Does it make a difference? Last year’s me would have said yes, because why else am I doing this shit when I should be sleeping or acting like a normal human being if no one’s reading it? But looking back, one of the reasons I stopped writing was because I felt suffocated by the pressure to perform and be bittersweet and funny in the same paragragh. I felt if I didn’t reach a certain number of views on a post or likes on Twitter or hearts on Instagram then I was doing something wrong.

And that is so bloody wrong.

So I’m delicately shoving myself and my laptop back into the ring, and if you’re sticking with me after all this mess I’ve gone and done, thank you. Seriously.


How to Blog

  • Sit down. Think. Need an idea, need an idea.
  • Nothing.
  • Keep thinking, do some online window shopping / eat too many biscuits /  pick nose.
  • Nope. Nothing. Carry on with life.
  • Get idea. (at 4am when you seriously need to be asleep, I mean honestly, look, your kid’s gonna be awake in two hours)
  • Quickly ensure in your head that this “idea” isn’t your brain tricking you and recycling someone else’s blog post you’ve read previously and making you believe it is your own brilliance.
  • Once determined either dump stolen idea / write down original idea.
  • Find pen and paper / make note on phone.
  • Discover distinct lack of pens and paper, phone out of battery.
  • Swear.
  • Write on back of hand with eyeliner.
  • Question momentarily that taking child to nursery with “HAPPY PILLS, POEM ABOUT QUICHE, FUCKING SMUG PARENTS” scrawled up your arm may make you appear somewhat unhinged.
  • Find jumper. Deposit child.
  • Come home, quickly, very quickly tidy surface crap in house, yes, you can totally do this blogging and mum stuff.
  • Remember to never, ever open that cupboard that is now bursting with the washing up / laundry / bills / all of the above.
  • Make coffee, all writers need coffee right? Consider taking up smoking as a hobby, writers smoke too, yeah? Roll up old post it note and pretend to puff on it, really debonair.
  • Look at writing on arm for a moment. Entirely forget where the fuck you were going with “POEM ABOUT QUICHE.”
  • Realise you are hungry. Search for food. Find none. Sit down with bowl of dry, slightly stale Cheerios.
  • Think.
  • Check emails.
  • Reply to emails. Agreeing to do more blogging work, that you’ll ultimately forget about for the next two weeks.
  • Check Twitter.
  • Think of something hilarious and relatable to say.
  • Tweet about getting shit on your face this morning / the kid throwing up on the cat.
  • Watch tumbleweed roll by as your Tweet is ignored. Question whether you’re actually funny.
  • Drink more coffee.
  • Play around with different fonts on your blog.
  • Get a grip.
  • Open compose blog post thingy.
  • Stare at screen.
  • Think of 3 absolutely brilliant blog titles. Realise that you have nothing more than the titles.
  • Save each one to drafts.
  • Sigh dramatically. Have another puff on fake cigarette.
  • Look at clock. Find that you’ve somehow wasted an hour already.
  • Really stare at the screen now, you’re determined, you can do this.
  • Waste another 10 minutes trying to think of words that rhyme with quiche.
  • Scrap quiche idea.
  • Start writing about anything, you are funny, it’ll just come out naturally without you even thinking about it.
  • Realise you are not funny at all.
  • Look at photos of cats on Google to console yourself.
  • Have a little peek at blog statistics for the day, just out of interest, stats don’t matter, you don’t really care about them, you’re just curious. Find them plummeting.
  • Panic.
  • You totally have to write a post, like NOW.
  • Raid chocolate stash. Eat. Continue to eat until you feel enormously guilty and dirty.
  • Commence staring contest with empty white screen.
  • Realise you have 10 minutes before you need to leave to collect child.
  • Have a little cry.
  • Check emails.
  • Reply to emails.
  • Reluctantly put shoes on and collect bag.
  • Practice tortured artist face in mirror.
  • Wallow in self doubt.
  • Remember to disguise any evidence of chocolate binge.
  • Start walking to collect kid.
  • Find yourself attempting to be all deep and profound, making metaphors about dead flowers or road rage as you walk.
  • Swear under your breath.
  • Scare passing school children.
  • Get sucker punched with amazing idea as you’re pushing through the double doors at nursery.
  • Begin to panic that this is someone else’s blog post again.
  • Dump or keep accordingly as you’re signing the register.
  • Immediately forget idea as you’re handed accident report form and are told by the sheepish nursery lady that your kid headbutted a window, apparently attempting to squash a fly.
  • Repeat for eternity.