growing

In three days, I'll be at the Blissdom conference for the second time. But instead of planning and packing for this year's experience, I can't stop thinking about the last one.

{Blissdom 2011}

I remember being in the audience for opening remarks. I had a notebook and pen. I was there to learn how to use social media to promote a company I worked for; I had no expectations for my own writing.

After listening to the welcome, I stood up and walked past the mini-sessions for brands and businesses and sat down with a group of writers.

It just felt right.

And, oh, it was. It really, really was. There I met a feisty writer with kind eyes and a beautiful smile. She led the discussion and she changed my life. She relit a fire I had left to extinguish. And as we went around the table and I heard names like Schmutzie and Palinode, I started to fill my notebook.

For the rest of the weekend, I wrote down blog names and twitter handles and fought the urge to run to a corner and start reading. All of it. All of them. I was captivated by the affection they had for their stories, by their commitment to truthtelling.

I hadn't felt that way about writing for a long time. I had let myself believe I wouldn't feel it again.

I came home and read and read and read. And then I wrote and wrote and wrote.

This space was born because of Blissdom. And part of me is afraid to go back; to return with my own blog, and stories, and truths.

So I remind myself that even with the embarrassing, fumbling posts of my early blogging days, I have grown. And instead of editing or deleting those posts, I will have affection for them.

{My magical notebook}