Why Blogging Stopped Being Fun and How to Enjoy It Again

Years ago, we blogged just for the fun of it. Now, before we go any further, don’t worry, I’m already feeling that “gather round, children, and let Grandma tell you a story” vibe too. I apologize in advance. Stay with me though, as I channel Sophia Petrillo for the rest of this.

Picture it, the year was 2008, and I had just opened an account on Twitter, back when it was fun and growing daily into society’s biggest watercooler. I was still in the early days of marriage and was a new business owner striving to work from home so I could be with my kids. And I was lonely. Very, very lonely. No shame in saying this now, of course, but in 2008, we still weren’t having the big mental health discussions we have now. Moving from my hometown of London to Ottawa to live with my husband meant I was starting fresh in the friend department, and while I love my kids, they weren’t exactly deep conversationalists at that point. Social media gave me a sense of community, and with it, for better or worse, a new path in life.

Prior to blogging, the loneliness of being a stay-at-home mom was something you might only be able to share with a friend or close family member, and depending on your support network, they might not be the most supportive. Social media and blogging allowed women to break free from the isolation. We didn’t know back then, of course, that this digital reality would very soon drive feelings of isolation even higher. No, back then, we took the online, offline. There were “tweet-ups” and blogging conferences, and coffee dates made. It was fun to match the person to the avatar in the real world, and deep, lasting friendships were made.

Blogging, and even more specifically mommy blogging (good god, I hate that term now), was a new creative outlet. A way for women to connect and commiserate, and massive communities were born. The stories we shared on our websites and social media could be happy, sad, boring, or profound, and often had no agenda. Very few of us were trying to sway opinion, and we actually wanted to hear yours. We chronicled our days, captured cute memories for our kids, shared our favourite recipes, and saved those moments in a digital diary. Most recipes you’ll find on this site, by the way, are really just a way to keep them in a place where my daughters can find them and maybe find some piece of me to remember when I’m gone.

Then the brands and corporations turned their sights on us, and, as money often does, it ruined it. You could no longer just write; you had to write for SEO, and the machine we had found community in became an insatiable beast demanding more and more of our time. Post seven times a day on Twitter, three on Facebook, do it for the ’gram. Entice with goods or incite with rage to get eyes on you. Every word turned into a chance to sell, and every picture had a price tag.

And your opinion? Well, a lot of those became attacks on our looks, or judgements on our parenting styles. Comments became hostile and increasingly violent. Not to mention the spammers who leave comments with links to their products. Now every comment, if people even bother to leave one, must be moderated.

Before brands and corporations stepped in, we were raw and honest, expressing vulnerability, and asking questions we didn’t have answers for. Once money became the motivator and corporations gave us our content briefs telling us what we could and could not say, we sterilized our words and feelings so as not to offend a single soul—not just in the sponsored blogs but across our entire websites. True story: I was once turned down for a campaign with Smuckers jam because I also had recipes for alcoholic beverages on my site. Apparently, moms who buy Smuckers don’t drink. Drop a curse word? Not on your fucking life. Swearing in “mom world” was taboo to banks, stores, and telecom companies. Never mind that most moms I met through blogging could make a sailor blush.

We became “experts” and were instructed to niche down, to pick one interest and run with it, even when we didn’t feel like it anymore. It is in this regard, by the way, that I have failed spectacularly, and I know I’ve paid for it. I’m a travel writer and food blogger, as well as a radio and podcast host of a feminist-based show. Not exactly an easy thing to explain to a PR intern who wants someone with a laser focus on beauty or fashion. I’m not a niche, though, and, like most women, I have a variety of interests. Yes, I want to know how to make the perfect roast, but I also want to topple the patriarchy, thank you very much.

Over the last nearly two decades, I’ve watched this process, best explained by the word enshittification, play out with nearly every creative outlet to spin off from blogging. It starts out fun, informative, and engaging. Then users slowly but surely become unpaid employees of the platform. Vacation? Absolutely not. Take a day, or heaven forbid a couple of weeks, off from posting on a platform, and risk losing all the community you’ve spent so much time building.

It’s just all made me very cynical, and tired. So very, very tired.

If you’re struggling to read between the lines on this one, let me spell it out: I’m at a crossroads. Blogging, content creation, and radio all require money. I pay for hosting services, SEO help, accounting, and production to name just a few monthly expenses. It costs money to put my show on the air, and every social platform wants a cut of the fees I receive for sponsored posts, or they won’t show it to anyone. Google and Meta are essentially online versions of mob bosses. Nice little blog you got there, be a shame if anything happened to it. And before you know it, every paycheque you receive must be divided amongst the overlords.

To add insult to injury, small bloggers have been replaced by mega content creation machines that churn out “10 things to do” posts daily, and Google has now throttled reach for anyone who obtained organic reach on their first page so that those who pay for first-page status can be there. Never mind that the content is probably not what you’re looking for. For lack of a better word, it’s become a shit show.

I can’t pinpoint the moment, but somewhere along the way, blogging ceased to be a creative outlet and instead became a job, not a joy. So, I’m considering my path forward, and as I do so, I’ve decided to embrace the thing I’ve been missing for so long: writing with no agenda. Just being me, in my little teeny corner of the internet.

I can’t even express how refreshing it was for me to get this far in this post without trying to weave a focus keyword throughout to rank in SEO. If you happen to trip upon this post, I’m glad you’re here and welcome. Mostly though, and going forward, I will be writing for the fun of it. Maybe, just maybe, I can rediscover what made me love being here in the first place.