Reactivating my Blog
Most fans prefer to follow artists on social media rather than artists’ websites. Knowing that preference, I created a presence on social media sites as they came into being and posted diligently for several years. But social media is not a medium that fits the way I prefer to communicate, and it was taking time away from creating music (why I started this journey), so a few years ago I shifted to communicating with my fans mainly through my newsletters (and the larger public via radio interviews, podcasts and occasional social media posts).
I knew blog posts were completely outdated by then, so I only posted rarely. I kept the section live on my website as a kind of history—mainly for myself. But as I geared up for various album releases, I was told that not having a continuous stream of current information on my website made me look unprofessional, so I finally took down the “Blog” post section of my website some time in late 2021. But I didn’t delete it. It was my history.
Today I’m reactivating my blog (and renaming it “journal”) because I realized the stories from my journey are important to me. And it gives fans a greater understanding of my music knowing some of these stories. In the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, I also have a story to tell about my song “Edge of a Hurricane” (written in 2016) that involves references to many of my old blog posts and videos. I am creating a new video from a July 2024 live performance of “Edge of a Hurricane” with pictures from the Sep 2024 hurricane and it’s aftermath. All of the pictures will be of two places I have performed in that are very dear to me (the “Pavilion” at Olivettte in Asheville and “Zadie’s” at the “Old Marshall Jail” in Marshall, NC.
I hope these stories reach some people who want and need to hear them. I don’t have any interest in “going viral” (isn’t that an illness?!). I activate this part of my website again fully knowing that that act is somewhat akin to putting a handwritten note in a bottle and throwing it in the ocean. I hope these stories eventually find a shore—and a reader.