Well here we are then. This Friday the blog turns one. I’m not entirely sure how that happened. I started out on my journey into the seething maelstrom of the blogosphere with no destination in mind, no plan, no back-up, no ideas worth a damn. I left myself at the mercy of whatever fevered and diseased thoughts popped into my head, flying my blog airship by the seat of my mind-pants. Because my mind does indeed have pants, for it is a decent and upstanding mind that does not believe in gross public mental-nudity. Over the year the blog’s evolved from a rudderless catastrophe to a blog where I talk about writing and share what I create as I vainly try to make my way into a world saturated by a million other wannabes. The blog is still a catastrophe, but it is, at least, a directed and focused catastrophe.
I honestly didn’t think I’d make it as far as I did. I thought I’d try my very bestest the churn out a post a week, on something, anything. I expected to make it a couple of months before losing patience and motivation; the blog-ship would start to list dangerously, it’d start to lose lift and I’d start sinking through the foetid clouds like a big, fat stone made of cloth and iron. Finally crash landing in the great blog-graveyard beneath the swirling mists of words, the place where the discarded shells of old blogs lie strewn across the landscape, their corpsey husks half buried in toxic, black mud. This didn’t happen. I’m still going, fifty-seven posts and I’m still going. Sure, there was a blip in July but I was moving house and had no internet. As soon as I had internet I fixed that, I kept going. And I sure as hell don’t plan on stopping.