I guess it’s sad to start with a death. But, in truth most new things do start with the ending of something else.
In the words of the song – every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.
I decided at the beginning of the year that Vegemitevix was to be quietly and humanely put to sleep.
After all, I can’t relaunch as Vicki Jeffels Author and start this blog without saying goodbye to the old Vixen.
Rebranding is quite involved, as any marketing consultant will tell you, and I’m still working on changing all the social media accounts and organising redirects. Vegemitevix.com is still up but more as a headstone than something alive and dynamic. In time, I will quietly turn the life support system off and it will cease to be.
But oh the memories will live on.
Not least of which because some of them have been captured in my book From Pavlova to Pork Pies which was published late last year. Other memories will live on in our heads, as contrary to perceived wisdom things don’t live on the internet forever – we are so bombarded by information from every quarter only the truly relevant remains vital. The rest will fade away, gracefully. Just as the old gang has faded from view.
I lecture in Digital Marketing now and when I consider the blogging hey-day of 2008-2012 I am in awe at what we achieved. Young bloggers have no idea how much easier it is now to get started and to turn professional. Back then, the majority of ‘Mummy bloggers’ were trying to keep their career lives happening whilst raising the kids, and we fought hard to be taken seriously. When brands asked us to blog about shampoo and offered a bottle as payment, we sent it back. We said ‘thanks but no thanks’ to SEO opportunists who demanded backlinks for ‘the exposure’. ‘Just think of the exposure’ they’d say. We’d laugh into our keyboards. Who did they think we were? Numpties?
Blogging was very much a community activity back then. We would all comment on each other’s posts and share the love around far and wide. It wasn’t unusual to have over 40 comments on a blog post, these days you’re lucky to get two or three. We developed writers’ groups (Remember Judith’s Room?) and clubs – BritMums, NetMums, Kiwi Mummy Bloggers – and we supported our mates. Somehow it was all more social and less competitive back then. More grime and giggles more wine than whine.
These days things seem so much tidier. Less messy. Perhaps, less real? I haven’t decided if this is all image and artifice or whether it really is a change in how we live now. Do we all now live in our competitive little, sanitised bubbles? Are the Insta posts in their glossy styling and careful curation simply a reflection of our tidy lives?
During a recent howling storm in NZ some kindy kids in Thames were let out to play in the rain. They had a ball; jumping in puddles, squelching through the mud, and sliding down the slippery slide. Someone took video of the kids playing and shared it on social media. At the time of writing that video has had over 27 million views. Why? Because kids don’t often play like that anymore. They’re not allowed to play that way. They’re ferried by anxious Mums to after school activities or escorted home to a nice clean play on ipads and tablets. Playing in the storm was seen as dirty, slightly dangerous play, a rebellious expression of freedom. Kudos to the parents and the staff involved who had the courage to let kids get dirty and who didn’t give a flying frittata about being seen as ‘bad Mums’.
But it’s not just this generation of kids who’ve changed, their mothers (and fathers) have changed also. We seem to all be shy of getting mud on our clothes or wearing the wrong clothes and God forbid seeing that image displayed on social media! So many of us still curate the stories we share. We present a brand sanctified, ultimately safe stream of stories on our social media.
But some of us old storytellers still linger, fingers on the keyboard, humour honed, razor wit sharpened. We’ve done the nice, the nuanced, the brand beautiful and we’ve learnt that though we gained audience we lost authenticity. Blogging isn’t so much about brand engagement for us anymore, it’s more about good old fashioned soul speaking, storytelling. And in the best stories, there’s always a bit of blood, sweat and tears.
I turned 49 the other week. That was a shock. I keep thinking that I’m still the Vixen of 39 yrs old fighting the world for her cubs, and then I pass a mirror and realise, although the vixen’s still there, she’s greyer now and a little thicker around the middle. We all change, we all grow older, some of us even grow wiser. (I’m working on that). But I’m no longer an expat mummy blogger. We’ve returned home and the kids are all but grown up. Two of my three kids have left home and the baby (the baby!) is in her last year at school.
And so, it’s time for a new chapter. I’m writing more, with another series at the plot planning stage, and I’m teaching, sharing my learnt lessons. This vixen may not need to growl at the world to protect her kits anymore but she can still hold her own. I’m no longer dependent on brands so I will speak my soul and tell my stories and, importantly, I’m not frightened of being seen to be a little bit messy.
I’d love it if you came with me as I navigate changing careers, the empty nest, the middle years, and the next stage of my crazy life.