Despite the complete overhall I gave this blog at the beginning of 2016, it's been a difficult few months for blogging. I've barely read anything, barely written anything (apart from mock exam papers) and barely been present in the blogging world. Truth is, I've been forced to accept this is pretty much how a lot of 2016 will be, even though I wish I had a full schedule and was bursting with ideas for the next post. Somehow though, I've found myself under the assault of constant work, revision or just events cropping up that mean everything goes by in a blur. I feel like I've barely had time to stop and think, let alone read or blog.
More than ever, I miss it. I really really miss what it feels like to fall in love with a story you had never heard of, to be excited to just write your heart out when you're reviewing a book you adore or simply just the excitement of getting home to emails and messages promising shiny new things, shiny new opportunities. These last few months have barely had any of that, and I miss it badly.
It's completely my fault, of course. I just haven't had the energy, in all honesty, and would constantly end up with something else on my mind. I've barely touched my blog's social media, which seems unreal when there was a time you could barely keep me off it. Yet the other day, I picked up a copy of Wuthering Heights which I got at Christmas, and honestly reading had never felt so good. I haven't read a lot yet, but the tiny bit I did read felt like coming home, almost, because it's something I've missed out on for so long. Even writing this right now gives a weird kind of relief; I'm finally writing again.
Of course, I'm not going to ask myself to settle right back into robot-blogger mode, churning out a full schedule's worth of posts. It has to be baby-steps, I think. I need to learn to embrace my sporadic posting and random ideas, just writing whatever needs to be written in that moment. Blogging is a bit of an art form, I believe, and just like any other medium you have to ease yourself back into it. It can't be forced. You just have to go with it, really.
So for now, this is a simple hello. A hello to the long lost friends hidden amongst pages, buried in the lines of type that I laboured over to convey my constantly heard opinion. I think I've busied myself so much thinking of ways to give others a voice, I've forgotten I perhaps need to give myself one first. So here's my first word for you all: