1. I started blogging in 2001 at the ridiculously-named “Debbie Does Drivel.” I used real names, gave addresses of where I lived, and generally committed every sin of online personal privacy breach. It was from 2001-2004 that I discovered many of the storytellers that I still love today like Mighty Girl and Que Sera Sera, and who luckily, are still around in one way or the other. I think of those years fondly and long for the time when blogging was really and truly about sharing stories. Through the posts I read way back when, I came to know bloggers as people, and I miss those days because the pendulum has seemed to swing to the side of being afraid to share who you really are because there’s a “brand image” to uphold. I really admire bloggers who can be authentic while making a living. That’s a hard balance to strike.
2. Storytelling on my blog gives me a way to parse out my experiences and emotions because as a woman who feels deeply and profoundly, I need to give words to it all or I would explode. The Indigo Girls once wrote, “I used to lie like that alone out on the driveway, trying to read the Greek upon the stars, the alphabet of feeling.” That’s how I perceive it: there’s a lot of unanswerable, undecipherable FEELINGS! going on inside, that I’ve got to navigate them by putting them into words. Telling stories also helps me to remember and make sense of what I’ve experienced, observed, and been confounded by, and to record it all in some small way.
3. I freelance as a writer and editor, so my days are filled with trying to make a living. I spend a lot of time online for work and play and I’ve found all that watching through my laptop has stolen a little part of my life that I want back. So I try to get out and live and not just watch other people do it. What this all comes down to is most of my days are spent working or angsting about not working.
4. If I had a million dollars…I would buy a house to make my very own and then promptly leave it to live somewhere abroad with my family for several months out of the year. I’d start with Norway and make my way to Singapore.
5. Tell us a secret? I’m frighteningly insecure. If my husband goes somewhere without me, I’ll always ask, “Did anyone wonder where I was?”
I’m terrified of being forgotten or overlooked. (Which might double as an answer to #2.)