You’ve started over, haven’t you? Even if it is not the entirety of your life, you’ve thrown something out — a writing project — and just started over.
When I started blogging, I tied everything to my personal site at scotherrick.com. I had a business site, writing site, and a photo site (which was surprisingly hard to maintain!).
I thought at the time that everything should be tied to my name — my brand, so to speak.
But after a lot of hard looking, I determined that it would be better to separate out my named site with new sites associated with unique brands. Consequently, I went out and got a domain name for Cube Rules, a business site about Career Management for Cubicle Warriors; Ten Keyboards, a writing site about Technology for Writers; and my K9JY site, a ham radio contesting site which I carried over as part of my ham radio hobby.
Scot Herrick hangs out there as a chad, though I am in the process of turning into my site that will have my business and writing resumes as well as a place to (finally) put some of the personal stuff that fits my brand as a blog.
As I am writing this on Sunday night, I am deleting the files associated with the old blogs — BizBlog, WriteBlog, and PhotoBlog, as part of the old Scot Herrick site.
It is like saying goodbye to old friends. When I started blogging over two years ago, I did not know where it would lead, how I would blog, or what I would learn.
Blogging has turned into something wonderful — the discipline, content, connections and new friends are incredibly fulfilling. But the beginning, the original start, was built on my best thoughts at the time and, as I am writing this, the FTP program is deleting the files, the folders — my work — into the electronic ether, never to be seen again.
Those blogs helped me grow. They helped me get to where I am now. It is sad to see them go.
I never thought electronic folders, thoughtfully placed thousands of miles away at my hosting site, would have me pause and reflect. But, it’s the work, the effort, and the learning that passes by in the electronic night. It is the realization that I’ve moved on.
A toast to the past! And, with no regrets, continuing to move on.
Scot
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