Thursday, 5 November 2015

It's time...

...to close down the blog.

I've fallen out of love with blogging. It was wonderful at first; a huge help to me through the madness of separation and divorce, and a catalyst to meeting lots of new friends. You guys...you've been such a huge support. Thank you so much.

At first, I blogged only about divorce. Those months were sometimes dark and other times immensely happy, and the see-sawing of miserable/manic writing was therapeutic. (To me, anyway. Sorry if nothing made any sense to you.) But after a while I literally ran out of things to say about divorce. I mean, you can only bang on about it for so long. People move on, arguments are forgotten, finances are ironed out. There's no point going round and round moaning about things. So I started to write about issues that affected me; children, work, relationships... the normality of crappy and not-so-crappy life. And was very grateful indeed that anyone read it all.

But recently, things have changed. I was asked to write for a national paper (woo-hoo!) but they then withdrew as I wanted to hold on to my anonymity. Being anonymous has worked for me but even that is crumbling; my ex husband's best friend started following me on Twitter recently - a sure sign that my ex has been watching me for a while.

Occasionally my writing has been picked up by larger organisations (Mumsnet - thank you  - and also the Australian News Agency, who took a particular fancy to my post about my vagina) but generally, my writing hasn't taken off in the way I'd hoped it would. I haven't invested enough time or money into the blog to make it stand out. And I've come to the conclusion that, if I haven't done it by now, I never will.

But instead of skulking off into a cave for ever, the plan is to open a new blog under my real name. No hiding. Because when I'm feeling it, I love writing. Of course, when I'm knackered - having just cycled home in the rain from work, surrounded in onion peelings whilst preparing tea and listening to the kids beating each other up in the room next door - you can stuff your sodding writing up your effing jacksy.  In my dreams, however, I'm writing in a summer house surrounded by rambling roses, or across from a log fire in early December.

This will happen one day.

But for now, adieu to yeu and yeu and yeu. Thanks so much for listening.

Lottie xxx