If my blog, my writing, my photos, and my ideas have meaning for you, please consider supporting this work so it can continue to grow. There are several simple ways to support the blog; you can read about them here. I know things are tough; I feel it in my bones. But I’m also quite determined to write on this blog until I drop.

I need your support, and I need to be paid for what I do.

It took me years to ask for donations to support my blog. I was a publishing big shot who got significant advance and royalty checks and even had a movie about me. That was a while ago.  I never dreamed of asking anyone to support a blog.

I broke down after six years of living alone on a 90-acre farm I couldn’t see to the end of. I gave much of my money away in a streak of madness and gave the rest of it to my first wife in a long and hard five-year divorce settlement struggle, the last thing either of us wanted.

I was just publishing the blog as my life got wobbly, and I refused many pleas to ask for donations to support it, a new thing beginning to unfold by innovative creatives on the Internet.

The blog allowed me to write freely and across a wide range of issues that interest me, from spirituality to politics (sometimes) to the story of my life. The blog had become my great work, my living memoir, and a radically new experience in my post-publishing world.

I was done with the corporate people who were taking over publishing, so I took the leap I was always afraid to take. Joseph Campbell calls this the Hero Journey. I call it salvation and redemption. I do not regret a minute of it.

But the economics were different. When I was writing books, people had to buy a book to read what I wrote. I was paid for my work. It’s tricker on the blog. They can get it for nothing if they wish.

The blog was successful almost from the first, mostly because I had the good sense to realize it was the story of my life, not just the dogs and donkeys that people wanted to know about. I wasn’t selling things or sugar-coating my life; you get the real me for better or worse. I was living a life like all of us.

We all struggle with life in one way or another; my struggles are out in the open, with all the things that entail. I’ve never given up on that, despite the waves of peckerheads and yentas drawn to my story’s bare bones, along with so many good and supportive people.

My big breakthrough was when I realized I deserved to be paid for my work. I knew it would work when people cared enough about it to send some money to keep it going. That meant the world to me.

It was at first a demeaning and self-esteem issue for me to ask other people to support and pay me. I got over that. A good friend and a good therapist and a good wife persuaded me that no one would value me if I didn’t value myself.

The same was true of love, as it turned out.

There is still something inside of me that hates asking people for money, even if I do work hard for it and even if I deserve it.

The Internet has broken many of the conventional wisdoms and rituals that once dominated the lives of creative people.

The blog is all me; there is no agent, no editor, no proofreader, no researcher, no typist, or assistant of any kind. And no IRA to fall back on.

It’s just me. I work at it seven days a week, most weeks, and take a few days’ vacation every other year. This year, we don’t want to spend the money as the cost of everything we do rises.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in trouble; the blog is strong, widely read, and is helping to support my work. But only a tiny fraction of the people who read it donate to it. I guess one could say there is room for growth.

The publishing days are just a memory, financial and otherwise. Breaking from book writing, as much as it surprised and disappointed some people, was some of the best moves I’ve ever made in my life. Like marrying Maria, focusing my writing on my blog, becoming a photographer, and writing about dogs and animals.

I can’t bear to charge for the blog, my photos or not help battered dog people who are poor and desperate.  It will always be free.

But the blog is the center of the enterprise, all of it, the fuel that turns the engine, from the flower photos to the essays to the Army of Good.

Every month or so, I remind myself to ask for support. I work hard at the and blog a full-time job, and at an age when many of my peers are heading for condos in Florida, I am working harder than ever and loving every day of it.

I am out in the heat and cold and wet every day, taking photos that I believe make the world a bit brighter for some people. I work hard at the Mansion and Bishop Gibbons to do good and help others do good. I write for hours every day.

Reading the tea leaves, I am glad I opened up a new income channel with my Dog Support campaign. I think it is going to work, and I am making sure I limit it sharply so that I don’t take anything away from my lovely blog, the center of my creative universe. Of course, I am not charging anywhere near what the experts tell me to charge.

I haven’t settled on a final fee, but it will not cost much more than $50.

So I’m asking for blog support, as I do when I think about it, which I did today while meditating with the Mansion residents. I was telling them to respect themselves and where they were in life. One of them asked me if I was doing the same thing. It was a good question, so here I am. The blog is expensive to maintain, as is my photography, and as you all know, nothing is getting cheaper.

I appreciate small donations as well as larger ones. I welcome both. The idea behind blog support is that many people send small amounts of money or voluntarily paid subscriptions if they wish. The idea is that no one gets hurt much.

An easy way to donate is via Paypal, [email protected], or Venmo, Jon-Katz@Jon-Katz-13. Or by check, Jon Katz, Blog Support, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. The other ways are listed here.

This is certainly about having money and paying bills, but as much or more than that, it is about respecting myself and my work and continuing my struggle for self-respect and identity. Thank you for following my work and my life and making it possible.

If you value it, please support it.

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I’ve shared some of the nasty letters I get; I ought to share more of the nice ones I get every day. This one came in tonight; it meant the world to me.

This is really why I do what I do:

“I downloaded some of your beautiful flower photographs onto my phone. My sister, who is struggling with many health issues but is fighting hard, needed a pick-me-up. I sent her five of your photographs. My sister told me today that she cried when she saw those flowers, she cried. Their beauty touched her deeply. She doesn’t cry easily. But her heart was greatly touched by those lovely flowers. I ensured she knew you were the artist who took the photos. Turned out she had read one of your books and knew your name.
Anyhow, thank you for your generosity in sharing your beautiful photographs and letting others use them. I was so happy that my sister was touched by what she saw. You have a great gift. Thank you for not hiding it in a closet but sharing it with all of us.”

With thanks,
Robin

Thanks to you, Robin.