It Ends When It Ends

This blog feels done. (I keep forgetting that it’s not 2007 anymore.) A friend of mine, intending to encourage me, wrote this:

“I love that you’re still blogging!”

Then another friend: “You’ve reminded me about poetry. Why did I stop reading poetry, anyway?”

And like a balloon I deflated, in the slow, steady way of all things inevitable.

There is a fundamental mismatch between me (or more properly, my words) and social media in its current incarnation. I’ve understood this for some time even as I’ve tried to ignore it.

But the time has come to honor truth: This blog feels done.

Thank you, each and every one, for the ride.

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24 thoughts on “It Ends When It Ends

  1. Noooo! But I need you to keep writing, because I love to read your words. How will I get to read your words? (And I’m completely serious, Sarah. I love your writing, and I often think about the things you’ve written.)

    Your space is more like a one-person literary journal. Is it the blog format that bothers you? Because you could still have a space to write and share your words online. Maybe you could think about what sort of space feels a better fit, and make that space. Somewhere.

    Of course, I still love blogging. I find that it’s a flexible platform, and not everyone needs to do it the same way. The trouble is perhaps how many people perceive blogging. For some people, blogging equals “online personal diary,” and that alone. That is perhaps why many people visit my own blog and leave in confusion.

    This is all to say that I am sad to see this space being shut down. But I hope that it ends up only being a way to make way for something new.

  2. Oh, Sarah, please don’t leave a huge empty space in me where your words currently fill. Even if this blog is done, find another place to write your tales and memories and poetry. Truly, it would be an awful thing to not have your words in my life.

  3. This is sad. You’re such a talented writer. I read nearly every post (don’t always comment as on my phone). I know you’ve struggled with the fact it’s a blog before but where will we read your words?

  4. I’m going to be very sad to see you go. If you do emerge somewhere else more suited to how you feel right now where those of us who have loved you here can find you again do let us know.

  5. It’s your choice, of course, but FWIW, I’ll tell you where I stand on this. Not many read my blog anymore, and I don’t do Twitter or most other social media platforms. But it’s my place, my room of my own. I can write whatever I want there, and it doesn’t matter that almost no one reads it.

    I read your posts, BTW.

  6. If I did not remember wrongly, you have felt this before in the past, haven’t you? and you came back… *wink*
    Go.
    Take the rest and come back…but don’t too long…
    *smile*

  7. I want to add my voice with these lamenting ones. I have enjoyed each post, pondered your insights, and applied your truths. Please let us know if you find a new format. You have brought us along to this place and we will miss you.

  8. The silver lining is that I won’t have to try to remember my WordPress password.

    Because you’ll send all your work to me via homing pigeon, right? You will.

  9. Despite the universal sadness felt by all your readers, I love and respect your final post. No false humility or fishing for “please stay!”, no woe-is-me crap–just a writer who knows herself and her medium. You will be wonderful whatever you do, wherever you go. And you will still be able to kick my ass at word games. Good luck Sarah!

  10. Alejna echoes my thoughts exactly. I don’t think of Compost Studios as my “blog.” It’s a Web site, a one-woman thinktank and gallery and memoir and creative incubator. I hope you find a place to “house” your work. Will miss you here. Where have all the poets gone? : (

  11. You know what? I don’t really “fit” blogging either. I never had the millions of readers, the instant recognition, the book deals, the accolades, the blogging “cred”. And I quit for a while, cause I thought…”What’s the point?” The point is I like writing. Period. And so do you. So…this may the end, and if so, that’s okay. But maybe it’s just a break. Whichever it is, let it be about you. You’re a great writer.

  12. I love the concept of a one-person literary journal and I think there is so much place for that. But whatever you decide…

    keep sending us your poems please. xo.

  13. This doesn’t make me sad, at all. Because you don’t need this space to be brilliant, you don’t need this space for us to be friends. All we ever needed our spaces for was to connect….and we’ve done that. Keep using your words, SaraH. In whatever place it feels right. Love you.

  14. Really? Damn. You have to go with your gut but I love all your stories and poems. And people are being so boring now in blogging. I love you for doing something original and challenging.

    I feel bad that I never visited your blog much. But I gave up Twitter, so it is not personal!

  15. I know. But, I also know that you’ll keep writing. Here, elsewhere, somewhere.

    xox

  16. I’m on the other side of the blogging divide and am happy to be there and I welcome you over. Still, there is and will be longing for a way to make it work right. I’m sorry this platform didn’t work for you in the long term. There certainly was a heyday, though.

  17. So, what am I going to do without your wonderful words and stories to cherish? Sad, that’s me.

  18. Have been waiting for a time when not reading/typing on my phone to send a comment, but realised I should stop waiting and plunge in thumbs first. The way I read blogs has changed since I first found yours. But I don’t really think of this site as a ‘blog’ – more as a showcase for writing that I really enjoy. Like your other readers, I hope there will be much more to come, in whatever format feels right to you. (And now my coffee has arrived, so I will down thumbs, sending a wave from under the fans on the verandah of the Darwin Museum & Gallery where I am waiting for my BC support group to show up!!).

  19. I’ve enjoyed reading you for years, and will miss your thoughtful voice. My blog is still up, but feeling rather listless.

    I’m not too hard to find on Facebook if you’re into that :)

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