Are you getting sick of reading conflicting Fiverr reviews? When all you really want to know is: is Fiverr reliable? Is Fiverr safe and, most importantly, is Fiverr a legit website?
All very valid questions from someone about to give their money to a stranger I’d say.
If it’s any consolation you’re not the only one.
Some days it feels amazing, other days it drives me insane. Blogging.
Three months in and I have mixed emotions on my newly acquired hobby.
1: That all-consuming moment when I have an idea just bursting to come out of my head but I have to sit at the dinner table, listening to my plumber husband telling me about how the pipe wouldn’t screw onto the o-ring and how it’s been a hell of a day.
In my head, I’m screaming “Shhhadd uuup! I don’t care. Eat faster. Go and take the dog down the road for a poo so I can scribble some notes down”. But I have to sit there and say “Ahh, that’s nice, why didn’t you use your pipe twister?” Then smile. And wait. Like a demonic nutter.
2: Every area of your life becomes an opportunity for a blog post.
The kids say something and I start muttering and chuckling to myself like a mad woman. Them, staring in disbelief and horror threatening, “you’d better not post that on FaceBook-I’m warning you.” Me, scribbling furiously with my little but end of a pencil on the back of the shopping list, shaking like a hag possessed.
3: The stupid amount of hours I’ve wasted on setting things up on my site, only to disappear again two days later. I think all blogs should be written on the back of supermarket receipts then thrown into the sky for someone to find. No stats. No header configuration. No ranky, wanky rating thingys. Ok, good point. I just don’t deal very well with anything techy. It drives me insane and makes me cry.
4: You start dreaming of a life where everything you have is sponsored and so therefore free.
Free holidays, free wine, free carpets. Free anything I could write a post on convincing people how amazing the product was.
The reality? Sending the kids to my mums for the weekend, getting sloshed on a bottle of cheap red wine, and putting my slippers on so I can’t feel the grit on the tiles in the kitchen.
5: Since I’ve started blogging my house is a shit tip.
1: It’s something just for me. Blogging is mine. All mine. For the past sixteen years, everything I have undertaken ties to my kids in some way. Singing lessons so I can use my diaphragm to scream at them without hurting my voice.
Going to the gym in the mornings so I don’t have to listen to the same old crap about who’s turn it is to put the dishes in the dishwasher.
Meditation. They think I’m a weird new age freak. Good. It keeps them out of my bedroom for at least half an hour.
2: I hadn’t realised what an amazing community there is out there. I never believed for one minute that people, strangers, would be interested in reading my work. That other writer would take the time to connect with me and even comment on posts. If you’re a saddo like me with no friends (other than two teenagers who spend time with you through no choice of their own, and a bull mastiff dog with anxiety issues) it’s wonderful for your self-esteem.
3: You get to say stuff that you wouldn’t dare say in real life. Meet me face to face and all I tend to say ”Ahhh, that’s nice.” A lot. Although to be honest, you’ll probably never get to meet me in real life because I’m antisocial. I just stay at home with my dog. And cry a lot in the toilet.
4: You get to read fantastic posts from extremely talented writers. Before I started blogging I’d scan the National Geographic for five minutes in the toilet each morning. That’s if I was lucky. Usually, it meant reading the same page over and over since I always lost my place. Now, I have an array of well written and more often than not funny posts at my fingertips. It’s so refreshing to read about other things other than why the world is running out of water and what the green-eyed frog lives on in Mozambique.
5: I’d forgotten how much I love to write. I used to write letters to my friends when I was on holiday or when I went travelling. I’d write to my Grandma every week (admittedly in the hope that she’d cellotape a pound note to the inside of her next letter).
It’s a creative outlet. I love how it makes me feel when I release all of that ‘stuff’ inside of me. I feel incredibly lighter after I’ve written things down and a bonus? I’m a really nice person for about three hours after I’ve published a post.
Well. Maybe two.
Oh… Bless him! I can’t seem to get it right but I always get it wrong.
I’m Liz, and this is my family.
I do Travel. I do Wine. I do being a mum to big kids. Sometimes I do all three at the same time.
I don’t do hormones. Or looking perfect for Instagram. Or dieting.
Read more about who I am and why we should be friends on our about us page.