I spat the dummy and now I'm sucking it back up again.
I had a hissy-fit, I was hasty, I erred in anger.
Or something like that.
Giving up Bloggertropolis has been harder than I thought it would be. It's been like having an arteficial limb that has seen me compete in the paralympics suddenly ripped off and denied me.
Plus my wife has pointed out that (a) Bloggertropolis is a weird kind of family annal that we and the kids can look back on when Karen and I are old and grey and the kids have booked us into the Tombstone Express Nursing Home and remember the good old bad old days and (b) I am advertizing myself as a writer - flaunting my novels and poetry - and it rather undoes all that good marketing if visitors to this blog then find I'm "no longer writing" anymore.
So with apologies I am kind of back.
My other writing projects will continue (Lord knows I have another novel to write even as I continue to push The Great Escapes of Danny Houdini onto unreceptive agents) but alongside them will be Bloggertropolis. Probably not as it was before. The posts may be a little more infrequent and out of the blue. But continue they shall.
And it feels right.
I am going to have my cake and eat it.
And if that's a hissy fit, well, I love it.
I'm getting all diva on yo' ass and there ain't a thing you can do about it.
Except, er, maybe not read my posts...