So you are still here, with me, as I take one or two steps forward; however I need to spend a little time on the amount of steps that I have taken backwards, or round in circles. ( I did initially write ‘concentrically’, but thought that was showing off.) Memo to self – go and read the ‘supplementary grammar notes’. I am having self doubts. No change there, then.
Picture an enthusiastic, middle-aged woman, eager to let her fingers loose on her relatively new Macbook Air keyboard. She is still becoming ‘au fait’ with all that baby has to offer, but has taken the plunge and signed up for the Writer’s Bureau Course. For reasons that are still not clearly defined, she stumbles across WordPress.com, and so begins the odyssey into the world of blog.
I gave birth to my blog baby sometime between the hours of midnight and six o’clock the following morning, a relatively short labour, if you compare it with that of bearing a child. I was completely hyper – obsessed, even, with creating and getting this blog out into cyberspace. I had no comprehension of the myriad of obstacles that would try to thwart me, nor the range of emotions that I would have to navigate either. If I were a few years (alright then – decades) younger, it would have been a few clicks here, copy and paste there, and voila! Done, tick that off the ‘to do’ list, and blog. If.
Here is kind of what really happened. I decided it might be fun to venture out into the world of blog. Naively, I imagined this would be quite simple to set up because I am of reasonable intelligence (say nothing!); it would also be a forum in which to practise. So my head is in the game, because I can write, right? Easy, surely. Wrong. What I struggle with, time after flipping proverbial time, is the technology. Please tell me that I am not alone in this. Fellow ladies of a certain age, gentleman, even – give me some feedback. I’m not entirely sure how you do that , but there is a place to add comments, so go add.
Now I am in the maze, committed to coming out intact the other end. I hurriedly select a name, fill in a few relatively simple boxes, and off I go. It is free. A bonus because, who would want to pay for this painful experience. First obstacle. Which theme to select? I am a contemporary/classic kind of girl, so chose the ‘Penscratch’ theme. It mentions ‘pen’ – so assumed it would lend itself to the writing fraternity ( does that include me, with two x chromosomes?) All very random, methinks. Then comes an even bigger obstacle. Finding my way around the menu, the reader, the ‘blah blah’ and so on. I think it is at this point my head begins to spin.
Fortunately we live in the world of social media. There is room for a lengthy discussion on that last statement, but not here, and not now. So at silly o’clock in the morning, African time, it is very sensible o’clock in North America. I have a friend who also has a blog – frenchletters.wordpress.com – and she gave me some advice, along with another lovely lady who knows about these things. I was beyond excited, laughing outrageously loudly at my feeble attempts to set up both the ‘home’ and ‘about’ pages. I think she just about had a heart attack when I told her I had hit the ‘publish’ button! At that stage there was nothing on my ‘about’ page, and so she gently suggested I should add something there, in case people thought I was a weirdo, or worse.
I also joined a closed group on Facebook, for Writers Bureau Students in the UK. Except I am not in the UK, but I am very English. More of that another time. To date the banter and encouragement is an added stimulus, and I am finally writing. Or is it blogging?
I still have not cracked links, or blog rolls ( yes, you did read it correctly) nor the menu. However, I am about to finish this piece and review it myself. And publish. So empowering.
If I were able, I would take a photo of my feet and post it. Unfortunately I am pants with media, for now, so will try a little descriptive writing instead, so you get a feel of where I am, right here, right now:
I am sitting outside in the shade, under an umbrella on a comfy sun-bed, knees bent, supporting my laptop. The temperature is about 29 degrees celsius, and there is a breeze wafting in from the lake. I can hear the sound of pied kingfishers and other birds which I cannot identify, reassuring me that I am not completely alone. Lake Victoria stretches across the horizon, enveloping spider island. Swallows are soaring, dancing even as they are carried on the wind above. The smaller branches of the Ficus sycamores undulates gently, at a tempo I would describe as andante. Bailey, my handsome Siamese puss, is perched on the end of the dry stone wall, that separates the terrace from the garden. He is on the look out for the little lizard like creatures he tries to trap and torment. Soon the dry season will end and the rains will come, yet if you could see how green my garden is, with majestic Jacaranda trees, hibiscus flowering, you would be forgiven for thinking this was anywhere but Africa….
Doubts before I publish? Bien sur! But this is just a dress rehearsal, n’est pas?