I’m in the process of creating a new web site, except that it’s not really a web site…it’s a blog that you can sorta kinda make look like a web site, but not really, even though that’s what “they” tell you.
I want to advertise my business: I help people write or edit their life stories (or anything else a person would like to write.)
I’ve changed the name of the new blog to Connecting Points, Stories Matter. Still too long a title, but I haven’t come up with a shorter title. And it’s also going to be the name of the business…I think. Creating a web site is taxing to my brain.
But it was time to do something new with the blog. How long can you write about “Life After … Taking Care of Mom.” Mom has been gone almost a year and a half, and although there are still moments, I feel like it’s time to move on in some way. What that will look like remains to be read.
I will still write about “Life After,…” mainly because I’m working on a memoir, which I talk about on the new blog web site. I keep talking to people going through the mourning experience. A friend’s husband is about to die. Another one just died. Perhaps I’ll write the next “Who Dies,” by Stephen Levine.
I joined the Association of Personal Historians, a good organization that also has me completely intimidated, mainly because I’ve been checking out the member web sites, which really are web sites, and not blogs.
One personal historian charges $700 an hour, which is sorta kinda absurd. Why would you charge that much to sit down with someone to write their story? (For starters, it’s a long complicated process…but $700 an hour?) Husband says “He charges that much because he can. He’s going after the wealthy.”
I say, “I’m charging $45 an hour and in this community that’s going after the wealthy.” Which is an exaggeration. But you have to be damned good to charge $700. But that good? He lives in Vancouver, B.C., if that means anything.
Learning how much he charges encouraged me to raise my rates–to $46 an hour. I might even go to $47.
Stay tuned for a new address.