Hi. My name's Kristin Troy. For nine months this was my blog. My blog, and I loved it. All those people over in the right hand column? I loved them, too. They're the people who wrote things that made me spray Diet Coke out my nose or launch diatribes of my own; and often, their words made me remember why I dig humanity so much. When I started this blog, the header contained a quote from the Beatles and the promise of 'stories and observations from the funky, wet ball that is our home'. In each post I tried to live up to that with quality craftsmanship, in a way that was both entertaining and heart-felt. Site Meter says Go Go's had 8,700 visits and 12,500 page views. Among literally millions of blogs, it clocked 88k on Technorati. It won eight awards. That should indicate something, but I wasn't impressed. It was when you guys linked up and came back day after day, left comments and dropped email that I knew I'd done good. That mattered.
That's what I'm here to do. Love, write, love, write, love, write, stories and observations from the funky, wet ball that is our home has been the driving force of this blog. It's under my feet, the terrain I travel, my commerce and currency, kaleidoscope and spin cycle, my point and purpose. Recently I came to the awareness that I am not fully honoring it. I wrote, I took a good look at my CV and came to a harsh realization. I've crossed all my thresholds. It's time to start writing without excuses and handicaps, and thinking about publication. I'm thirty-five and I've got nothing to show for it... I'd never live a purgatorial existence, so why am I allowing my artses to languish? Fear, lack of faith, any number of things I'd rather not have on my CV. I need to be a lot more serious about what's meaningful and where I want to go with it. I meant it, kicked it, and within a week I got published for the first time.
That's what I'm here to do: go, go, Bimbo. Since 1992 I've been researching and developing a book I carry around in my heart like an emotional sherpa. It's time to get crackalackin' on bringing it to fruition. Twenty-one years should provide enough material for the story that's been growing with my brother. Two shorts are being written for fancypants lit mags. I need to focus my creative juiciness on becoming a better writer and publishing that work. The dedication and effort this requires means closing my beloved blog. I'm not at all sorry to be saying good bye and don't you be, either. We had one hell of a ride. If there's anything I hope you've taken from what you've read here, it's best said the way it began:
"And, in the end, the love you take
Is equal to the love you make."
Merci, ya'll. Bimbo out.