Last Friday morning, my website went dark. It felt like losing a friend. I knew I would get it back eventually, just didn’t know exactly when, so I took to my paper journal, read a couple novels, and tried to enjoy the respite from my online public life.
I met with friends at a charity lunch over the weekend, and I told them about how I was feeling a little lost without my blog. None of these people are big on social media, so they stared at me like I was from the planet Weird.
“It’s not real,” someone said, turning the conversation to something else. I didn’t disagree, at least not out loud. But in my head, all I could think about was that they didn’t understand.
I recently visited my son in California and we were talking about deep subjects like emotions and how people handle them in various ways. For me, I told him, it’s easy. I write. I use a private paper journal, am active on social media, have my website, and am always in the middle of writing another novel.
They’re all forms of writing, and each in its own way helps me deal with my emotions. I don’t think I could have gotten through this life without writing and the internet is just a big fat blessing in that I don’t have to feel alone with my strange preoccupation of writing lots of words.
I sweated out the weekend, waiting to see when the site would return. This morning, I checked, fully expecting to see a void where my website should have been. But, surprise, someone stayed up late last night so that I could post today. Whew.
It’s a brand new look, which is always nice. So clean. A little too clean. I need to get some book covers up. Meanwhile, it’s good to be home.