Why I Write & Why I Blog
And so, I’m sitting here (as I do) wondering where to start.
Perhaps with a confession. Before I started this post, I checked my stats. I know, I said elsewhere, don’t become a Stats fiend. New year, new me? No, not quite.
But I’m looking at the chart, thinking:
Who are these people?
Where do they come from?
How can I help them?
Bounce rate is like, something fun, right? No?
I started blogging when blogs were indeed personal journals. I had a LiveJournal, for gahdsake.
Now, blogging seems to be all about solving people’s problems.
I have my own problems.
I didn’t think about who was reading or if my words helped them (although I hoped they helped). I kinda knew my story so I didn’t have to explain it.
The difference between then and now, and there is one, is I used to write instead of writing about not writing.
Which brings me to today, and why I want to write/blog/post every day in February.
Because I need it. Because it helps me.
Because I can no longer complain about having no space to write without actually writing. I need to create the space. And make the time.
Because I haven’t been particularly happy with the words I’ve blogged recently. Because it’s not writing.
So, lets start again.
My name is Lorna. I have CP and use a wheelchair. My wheels are better than your wheels. I’m an American living in Scotland. How long I’ve lived here has been disputed (by my mother. Hi, Ma), but by my Math(s) it’s 25 years next month, which makes me old 36.
My 12 year-old self took off from New York and was greeted at the airport in Glasgow by my Dad and a banner and quite literally a bunch of people who I thought were my family.
In um, related news, I landed on St Patrick’s Day, which would prove to be my husband’s birthday, but I didn’t know that then.
So, Scotland has given me a family, just not the one I thought.
I spent a few years in different places collecting memories, but not many University degrees (I have half of 2, which makes a hangover nothing.)
I did some solo-travel, sometimes actually solo. On one of my trips, I began to think of starting this blog.
It’s called Gin & Lemonade because that was my favorite Grandma’s favorite drink. I also had a favorite Nana. Everything I write in this blog and in my life is a letter to them.
Except maybe all those times I got paid to write corporate words.
Fast forward a few years/trips/jobs.
I met Neil, who is my puzzle-piece and my favorite pain in the ass. I looked for him everywhere, but he went to the one University I didn’t. We found each other online.
Neil, who was once Sarge, and I have made a human called Isla (Eye-la, if you need it) who was once called Zerbert.
The three of us lived in Edinburgh, but now we’ve moved to Skye. I miss Edinburgh. I sometimes, maybe strangely, miss New York. I’m from everywhere and nowhere.
And so, is this a travel blog? I don’t know. I used to travel, thought that I’d write accessible travel guides for every country in the world. These days, I can’t find an accessible bookshop.
Is this a disability blog? I don’t know. But I have one of those.
Is this a family blog? I don’t know, but I have one of those, too.
Is this an expat blog? I don’t know, but my accent is weird.
At the moment I blog because my best friend is a three year-old. A pretty cool three year-old who I made, but still, a three year-old.
I blog for the conversations I have, and for the ones that I can’t have.
And I write because I have to.
Originally published at Gin & Lemonade.