This is the elephant in my blogging room: The glaring and vast beast which I can always see, but have been too afraid – and shamed – to mention.
There are valid reasons for this decision to, I hope temporarily, stop actively supporting my fellow writers. One is the muscular pain which makes typing such a nightmare.
The other is far simpler – and yet far more distressing and stress-inducing: I am going through a divorce, and have, therefore, to be very careful what I say on here – and I have, if possible, to keep my blog pretty obscure for the moment. To put it bluntly, I cannot risk befriending unknowns, even knowns, because I simply do not know who reads their blogs (if you get my drift) and am unwilling to put myself in a position where I am being read by the wrong people.
I probably shouldn’t be blogging at all, to be honest – and the real reason why I have started and then deleted several blogs in the past two years was to get away from those who were either hostile readers, or simply ones who misinterpreted my situation.
I sacrificed a big, relatively successful blog (with a couple of thousand followers) for this little one because I had to. I had no choice in the end – and, if I have to leave this one behind, and delete all my posts, it will be for the same reason. But I will not be silenced in this way for much longer. On that point I am adamant.
So, for the moment, I am using my blog as a very necessary means of self-expression, of therapy, of allowing that poetic side through during a time of unhappiness and fear – and of appreciating the many beauties of this world we live in when, sometimes, I am tempted to give up.
I do not know when the situation is going to be resolved (in so far as such things ever can be) – and, even if I did know, I would not say.
As any of you who have had to make this difficult and painful decision will be aware, this is a time of great insecurity and terror and bouts of fear for the future. My recent novel-related blog-pushes have very much come out of that scarcity space – and I can only apologise for that.
So, now it is out in the open. Thank goodness. I am not naturally deceitful. Lying and pretending do not come easily to me. Elephants loom vast in my rooms – and, eventually, I always have to name them.
Bear with me if you can – and, if you cannot, I will quite understand.