When I started this blog, the Instagram we know today was barely a twinkle in its father’s eye and being an ‘influencer’ wasn’t even a thing. We had celebrities and that was your lot. We kept up with them via red-tops, or if they had a documentary out – I’m looking at you Katie Price.
Ella In The Big City was started on WordPress with an in-built blog theme, of which you could choose from about five and I had great fun with it. I was proud I had my own platform to say what I liked, even if I was talking to nobody – because trust me, no one was reading it.
Remember, this was back when Twitter had about ten members, one of which was me, all screaming into the void.
Nowadays, whilst I have a lovely audience of my own, my platform is swamped in an oversaturated market. Voices louder, better and more intelligent than my own surpass me and other people with their highly-curated ‘Personal Brand’ and large Instagram followings get book and brand deals.
I am not complaining, dude. It’s just the way of the world. I’m proud that I settled myself in for the ride many moons ago and am not hanging on the coat-tails of those who went before me. I was there before them.
I hope to still be pissing about with words long into my old age. Did you hear? I’m getting on for 30.
Although I’m sorry to say, in recent months I have neglected my corner of the internet and have starved it of my own words and thoughts, except for accepting some paid sponsored and contributed content. God, I am such a sell-out! I hate myself for it, I promise I’ll make it up to you.
Saying sorry to your readers or viewers for not posting in a while is something I actually find low-key cringe. Like sis, no one cares that much. No one is scanning your blog and lamenting you, cursing your name to the moon for not posting a shit shopping haul no one asked for.
But I am. Sorry, I mean.
Life has moved too fast for me over the last few months. My entire psyche and direction I thought I was going in has changed. The headspace of the world slowing down meant that I have been able to grow a seed of self-belief and actually get on with things.
Published freelance journalist? Completed it mate. Joking, it’s a game you can never complete. Pitches are life. I’m in the club now.
I’m making the move to set myself up as a company. I mean, how crazy is that!? A few short years ago I was sitting in one of those sound-proof telephone booths in a co-working space, trying to catch my breath in the midst of a panic attack. Good one Ella, box yourself in whilst you’re feeling boxed-in, that’ll help.
Anyway, the reason I FELT so boxed-in and panicked was because I thought I’d led myself down a certain path and that was IT. I cried every night for about three months solid because that’s just the kind of person I was back then. I didn’t realise holes could be climbed out of.
They can be.
Look, I need to go because I’m tapping away and getting serious Caroline Calloway vibes from what’s coming out of my brain. Am I channeling her? Who knows, maybe.
I promise I’ll stop being such a sell-out on the blog, write more interesting things; show you some published bits that you can be proud of me for. In return, I ask for nothing but your continued support, your wonderful cheerleading when I’m up and especially when I’m down.
I seriously, seriously love my life and that’s not something I ever thought I’d say, especially back then.
And I love you.