You see, my back went into major spasms last Sunday. I mean, major. As in DH had to help me up from my recliner in order to go to the bathroom. I finally started to feel better on Wednesday only to be hit with a stomach bug. Nothing feels as good as worshipping the porcelain god with a really sore back.
Just to make it clear, that last sentence was sarcasm.
So we come around to this week, and I'm really far behind. I haven't written anything in a week, nor have I published anything in nearly a year. I owe files to my formatter and cover suggestions to my cover artist. I need to write the next chapter in my collaboration project, only to realize we are WAY off track from our original intent. E-mails flashed back and forth on what to scrap and what to keep and how the hell do we get back on the road to meet our deadline.
Basically, I'm sinking in quicksand, and it's going up my nose. Of course, the stress triggers an unbelievable bout of insomnia Monday night/Tuesday morning. Rather than toss and turn, I come out to the living room and focus on my favorite mind clearing exercise--writing my blog.
I get my very late Monday movie review done. Still not sleepy. So I start poking through my old reading blog list.
It's freakin' amazing how many people I used to follow religiously have stopped blogging. Or now on other platforms. Or have simply disappeared from the internet.
Or in two very sad cases are no longer with us on this plane of existence.
A lot of bloggers were agents and editors. I poked through their most recent posts. In some cases, the old arrogance is still there, but in most, it's gone--either replaced with bitterness or
Others were writers. Most haven't given up writing, but realized blogging was not their thing.
A few were little things that interested me, like archeology or cooking.
I guess blogging is like all things in life. Each blog has its own natural life span. However, Wild, Wicked & Wacky hasn't finished pissing off enough people yet.
Just like me.