I have been blogging on one or other platform for going on six years, but I have been writing – in one form or another – virtually all my life, and more so all my adult life. Or wanting to. It was only when I started blogging that I really discovered two things: I could do it. People read what I wrote – even the things I thought others wouldn’t read. Then I had something reinforced: writer’s block is real and that sometimes it’s impossible to write through the block.
Then, in one of those funks, just last week, I wrote a post because someone wanted a recipe and, somehow, it just flowed. Was it that the blockage had been removed or was it the writing that did the unblocking? Or the thinking about the writing? Or the cooking?
That’s part of who I am, but only part. I have been, and still am self-employed and like most self-employed people, who do they really like doing what they are doing, am totally under-paid. Just over a year ago, no, nearly two years ago, I threw in the towel doing the work that had been my passion and bread and butter for more than two decades. I started a new business focusing on the village where we live.
It’s gaining traction, but not generating nearly enough income.
That is the other part of why I am here. I need to be earning more and have skills that are two-a-penny on other online sites and where my offering is considered too expensive. I cannot afford to offer my services at a cut-rate which effectively costs me to be there, so I’d rather take my chances on a platform like @steemit and Weku.
Besides, here I can write what I like, can’t I?
I guess that makes me a bit of a maverick, and it’s taken me more than 50-odd years to acknowledge that while I like working with people, in some circumstances, I am an unwilling team player, and that can be challenging.
Since I reluctantly and in a great deal of pain, chucked in that proverbial towel, I have had a couple of small projects that have helped to keep the wolf from the door, and have started doing things that I like, and which generate income. Cooking and feeding people is one. Every Sunday we open our home to the village and its visitors because there is no restaurant open. Sunday Suppers have become a “thang” as the following few photos show:
And then there’s the food – about which I also write.
I do all of this from our home where I live with The Husband and two cats who also feature in my writing from time to time.
There it is – until next time
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa
Edited slightly after it was first published on Weku 26 September 2018, and is hipefully my first post on @steemit since Hardfork20