Don't Call it a Comeback

  1. 1.
    a period of paid leave granted to a college teacher for study or travel, traditionally every seventh year.
    "she's away on sabbatical"
noun - alternative definition
     2.   what you call it when you come back to the job you were thinking about quitting.

I walked away from blogland in July of 2013, but my last real post was in May, one year ago. I was working two and a half jobs, keeping one foot in each of two camps, trying to decide (again!) what I want to be when I grow up. The leaving was due to more than just the busy-ness of career and life, however; I had become uncertain what I was doing here.

It happens to all of us at some point. You look around and envision all our little metaphorical cubicles, the gray uniformity of them, the sameness of what we do each day, and wonder: what am I doing here? Does it even matter? You tough it out for awhile, ignoring the nagging doubts, but one day you get frustrated, throw all your stuff in a box, and storm out in self-righteous indignation, vowing never to return.

That was me. My leave-taking was a little less dramatic, but the dissatisfaction was real. A few months ago, I started feeling the little tug to get back into blogging. I wasn't sure why, but the urge was real. So, I'm back, and I'm hoping to revive this old blogbody with a little greater perspective this time around. Taking a "break" has allowed me to reflect and discover that part of my problem was a preoccupation with audience. When we write, we want to have something to say, and we want someone to listen, to respond. I had started to feel like I was dropping grains of sand on the beach, hoping someone would follow my trail, and then getting frustrated when they didn't. So I would color my grains of sand, make them light up, make noise, anything to get the attention of the audience, and what I have realized is that I don't want to spend so much time thinking about this blog as a brand or a product. I just want to write.

So, here I sit. Back in my cubicle, but the view from where I sit is different. And I think I kind of like it.


  1. I had wondered how you were doing. I'm glad that you found your way back. I've always tried to just write about books for me and if an audience follows, great, but if not, I'm not too worried about it. I don't think too much about audience...if I did, I would never talk about poetry...lol

    1. Yes, or just recognize that your audience would be this tiny little pod of people who love poems, right? Thanks for the encouragement, Serena. It means a lot.

  2. Very happy and excited to see that you're back. I was thinking about you the other day.

    1. I'm happy to be back AND to see your face around here, too. I loved seeing the pics from BEA! I hope you are well.