I know who some of you are.
Generally, though, I don’t really have a clue who is reading this blog. I know some of you have special-needs children. Some of you don’t. Perhaps some of you just like a nice, honest catalogue of poop stories and anti-Pinterest reality tales.
Who am I to judge?
I’m thinking of this mysterious amorphous biomass of “blog readers” because I’m at a writing retreat in this charmed place.
I’m meeting writers and learning about writing and generally trying to hone my craft and so on.
You, dear readers, are on my mind. I’m thinking of you because you are my first audience. Instant publication via the miracle of the Internet connects my words to people who know the truth about my life and keep coming back for more.
It’s sort of amazing. And even if it were just me and my mom and my webmaster/hubs, Dutch, and some Eastern European porn sites checking in regularly here, it would be worth it.
What I want to say to you, readers, is this:
1. We discussed at this retreat the fact that nobody comments on blogs anymore because a) iPhones make it a giant hassle and b) people prefer to be lurkers, and c) maybe commenting on blog is passé, but I refuse to believe this. Comments are welcome, friends. Unless you are spamming the comments with sunglasses sales pitches. I like to hear from the people behind the Google Analytics stats. I really, really do.
2. Thank you for reading my words.
I mean it.