I never factored in the octopus that is the writing industry. It's not a natural octopus either for its arms are not a stable eight but an unstable labyrinth of mutating possibilities. Promotion alone could make an author lose sleep at night and that's not thinking about it but actually doing it - being online, addressing one more possibility, one more potential reader connection. And that's where the octopus starts to mutate.
It's a full-time job some days juggling all those balls. For those who have made it - there's assistants. For the rest of us, there's those wonderful people who volunteer and just quietly step in and fill a role. When it comes to my blog I count on one person. She's my self-appointed canary. And she was singing pretty loudly the other day when she e-mailed me not once but three times and that's before I had even responded to the first e-mail with the news that my blog was not opening properly in her browser. Not news I wanted to hear on that day but definitely news I needed to hear, and quickly.
Like a canary in a coal mine, sometimes we just need a friendly voice rerouting before we hit a derailment.