The night before, I go to bed with anticipation. I rise and shine at the first light, and enjoy breakfast with my daughter. We search through her drawers for the perfect outfit, one that will match the weather. We take a fifteen-minute walk to the daycare, wave our hands at the passing trains and jump in every single puddle if it’s a rainy day. Back home, I prepare myself a second bowl of cereal, and access my WordPress dashboard. How is this morning’s post faring?
I have my first few cups of coffee with the usual suspects, most of the time they are readers from Europe and Australia. By nine o’clock, I have a pretty good idea how the post will do. I don’t write on a day I publish a piece. Instead, I enjoy the interaction with the on-line community. I clean, I work, I sit and answer some of the comments. I cook, I work, I sit and answer a few more comments. I won’t lie, I take pride when I see the comments and the shares and the likes and the reblogs piling up. Blogging is an unpaid gig—the reward is the success of each post and the slow and constant growth of the community we create together. You’re a loyal readership, one that was built through the writing and through the railleries. And when it’s time for lunch, many of you will have already passed by, said hello, goodbye, see you soon. Others will swear they will never set foot around here again. Such is blogging.
The afternoons are quiet. I’ll see three readers, two likes, and one comment. I’ll tend to the real world and take a peek back on our blogosphere. And I will feel a sense of accomplishment, and take from blogging much more than what I get from my nine-to-five job, because I love to write, because I love to build community, because I love to connect with readers, bloggers, curious bystanders and the friends I make online.
(The Freshly Pressed message, the one you receive randomly from a story wrangler because your post on that day spoke louder than others. The rush, the satisfaction, the excitement of telling everyone around you that your post will make the front page of WordPress. Every day you say hello I get that Freshly Pressed rush. Every day I see your messages in my inbox I get excited. Every day you walk through my door I look forward to our cup of coffee, and our convo: what will it be today?)
When night comes, I think of the words that will spawn the next post, and I get antsy at the thought of inserting them in a sentence. In the real world, I sit with my wife and watch a movie. The WordPress orange notification light blinks intermittently, and I scramble a few more replies. I go to bed early. In our room with my wife, in our house with my family, I fall asleep proud and safe and confident about tomorrow. And this is usually when anticipation pays a visit…