My blogging success story: 16 lessons that shaped my business — and life
People often ask how I got started with blogging — or how I turned it into multiple businesses. And the truth is, it wasn’t one big leap. It was a series of small choices, late nights, and a whole lot of figuring it out as I went.
So today, I’m sharing my blogging success story — over 15 years of wins, detours, burnout, and healing. Everything in between. And all the lessons I’ve learned along the way.
If you’re navigating your own creative path, I hope this encourages you to keep going — and trust that even the messiest and most winding paths can still lead somewhere meaningful.
Lesson 1: Choose what lights you up
It started in high school — which might sound surprising, given my age. For context, the highest form of content creation in those days was crafting the perfect AIM away message.
But I made one decision that would change everything.
While my friends signed up for AP-level computer science, I chose computer arts. It was the one time I chose what sounded fun over what I thought I should do. I was in the running for top of my class, and that one choice took me out of it, thanks to how the grading scale worked.
But as it turns out, it was the very first step on my future path.
Lesson 2: Follow your curiosity
In college, I started off as a business major, but I kept playing around with Photoshop in my free time (shoutout to Limewire for the bootleg copy). A friend saw what I was making and recommended I try a design class.
So I did.
Within a year, I’d changed my major. My schedule filled with classes on design theory, Photoshop, Illustrator, and web design.
Meanwhile, I spent summers working at a local beverage distributor, mostly doing data entry and odd jobs. Eventually, I pitched the idea of designing a website for them. They said yes — and I coded it from scratch, complete with a navigation bar shaped like a soda fountain.
It stayed live for over a decade. Long past its expiration date, but still one of my favorite early wins!
Lesson 3: Stop thinking and start doing
By the end of college, I’d landed an internship in the publications department of a nonprofit — my first taste of magazine work. As luck would have it, they were hiring just as I was graduating, right in the middle of one of the worst economic crises in recent history. I got the job.
I spent my days working on the organization’s bi-monthly magazine — editing articles, designing layouts, and typesetting annual publications. Before long, I was also creating all the marketing materials.
When they decided to bring website maintenance in-house and hire someone part-time, I pitched an alternative: let me take over the website, and hire a part-time editor instead. They agreed.
It was a job I’d practically designed myself — creative, multi-disciplinary, and full of learning.
But while my coworkers took smoke breaks, I read blogs. I’d scroll through my ever-growing Google Reader feed (RIP) and daydream about starting something of my own.
Still, I was convinced I didn’t want to work for myself. I liked the structure. The steady paycheck. The health insurance.
But I also longed for the freedom to create on my own terms.
The only problem? I didn’t know what I wanted to create. I didn’t think I had anything unique to say.
After months of overthinking, I published my very first blog post on September 27, 2010:
One of the reasons I wanted to start this blog is also one of the reasons it has taken me so long to actually do it.
I spend way too much time thinking, and not enough time doing.
Hitting publish, I had no idea where blogging would take me. I only knew that it couldn’t hurt to try. That I had to give myself the chance to figure it out along the way.
That final statement in my first post would shape everything in my life moving forward. It became the underlying purpose of my blog — to get out of my head and into action, and take one small step toward what I wanted in life.
Lesson 4: Create for yourself
A few months later, my position was reduced to part time. The message was clear: I’d been the first hired, and I’d be the first fired.
So I found what seemed like a more stable job — only to have my hours reduced again. It took eleven months to get health insurance. Ten months to earn just three vacation days. And no sick time.
Still, I kept blogging.
Every day, I’d rush home from work, cook dinner, and eat in front of my computer while designing graphics for my next post. Whether I had something to say or not, I published anyway. Blogging became my creative habit — the place I played, practiced, and slowly developed my visual and writing style.
Lesson 5: Take a chance on yourself
Over time, I started applying what I’d learned from working on a magazine to my own blog. I created an editorial calendar, wrote regular columns, interviewed other bloggers. I asked myself what I wanted in life — and turned it into content.
My design skills grew. My blog design improved. And eventually, readers started reaching out, asking if I could help with their sites.
That led to freelance design work on the weekends. I launched a portfolio site for my studio, shared it on my blog, and started booking new clients through referrals.
After years of job instability, working for myself started to feel like the safer bet. Maybe I wouldn’t have employee benefits — but I’d be doing work I loved, helping people who actually appreciated it.
So when I reached a crossroads, I took a chance on myself.
On April 2, 2012, I officially went full-time in my business.
Lesson 6: Let your blog evolve with you
That first year in business, I hustled hard — hoping and trusting that the work would pay off.
I still blogged about lifestyle topics, but I also started sharing what I was learning as a new business owner. I launched a series on blogging tips to answer common questions from readers and clients.
That series became the heart of my email newsletter — and to this day, I still share weekly blogging tips with my list.
As my subscriber base grew and most of my traffic leaned toward blogging and business content, I shifted my focus. I began publishing more educational content for bloggers and entrepreneurs — writing about WordPress, design, and tips for growing an online presence.
Meanwhile, my business grew steadily through referrals and blog readers. I hit the income level I’d been working toward and found myself doing the kind of design and development work I’d once only dreamed about.
But deep down, I still felt that tug: I wanted to be a content creator and educator.
I loved blogging. And I wanted to support people who weren’t ready to hire a designer yet — people who wanted to learn and build things themselves.
So I launched a course on how to code your own blog on WordPress. Then a membership to teach bloggers the basics of coding and design.
I tried to juggle both — client work and content creation — and for a while, it worked.
But I was burning the candle at both ends.
Lesson 7: Let go of what isn’t working
After a few tough design projects and months of trying to juggle everything — client work, content creation, and my membership — I hit a breaking point.
Nothing brought me joy anymore. I was ready to burn it all down.
So I took a step back.
I paused content creation. I stopped accepting client projects. And I shifted my focus to web development — working in partnership with other designers, especially Victoria, who would later become my EmPress co-founder.
Together, we carved out a niche: custom WordPress sites for full-time lifestyle bloggers. The work was fresh and challenging. I loved solving complex problems and took pride in every finished project.
Eventually, I started offering ongoing retainers, which gave me the chance to collaborate with bloggers over the long term on smaller, creative projects — from beauty hubs to online bookshelves.
It wasn’t the wide-eyed excitement of my early business days, but things were stable. My business was thriving. I even got to hire my then-boyfriend (now husband) for a time.
Lesson 8: Your worth isn’t your output
I kept trying to reignite my content habit — and for short stretches, it worked. But my heart just wasn’t in it.
At the time, I didn’t think I was burned out. I thought maybe I just wasn’t meant to do the same kind of work forever. That maybe this shift in enthusiasm was just… aging.
Of course the work felt like a job again — I’d been doing it for years. Of course I couldn’t throw myself into it like I used to — I wasn’t in my twenties anymore.
What I didn’t realize was this: my relationship to work had been built on an unsteady foundation.
So much of my identity and self-worth was tied to my output. To being productive. To being helpful. And while those things aren’t inherently bad, they had become everything. It wasn’t sustainable.
Lesson 9: Do what excites you
Instead of confronting that burnout, I did what many creative entrepreneurs do: I started something new.
After years of talking about it, Victoria and I launched EmPress in 2017 — our own line of WordPress themes for bloggers.
It was energizing. The fresh challenge gave me something exciting to focus on, and the product-based model brought new creative possibilities. I found myself inspired by our customers — lifestyle bloggers are generally such a happy, grateful bunch. Their enthusiasm was infectious.
For a while, it made me excited to blog again.
It let me ignore the creeping burnout just a little longer.
Lesson 10: Give yourself permission to rest
And then COVID hit.
At first, it wasn’t so bad. I had spent eight years working from home, so my daily routine didn’t change much. If anything, EmPress began making more sales — people had time to finally work on their blogs. I stopped taking on custom projects and focused solely on retainer clients and EmPress.
I had more time and freedom in my schedule than ever before. I was still paying my bills. Isn’t that what I had always wanted?
But in the quiet of quarantine life, I couldn’t ignore the burnout anymore.
I had been pushing myself non-stop for over eight years. And when I finally realized I didn’t have to push anymore, I didn’t.
I let myself slow down. I did the bare minimum for work. I rediscovered makeup as a creative outlet. I played cozy video games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley.
I told myself I just needed a break. That my lack of motivation and sense of purpose was normal, given the circumstances. That as life gradually returned to normal, I would too.
Lesson 11: Stop worrying about where you “should” be
Instead of bouncing back, I slowly descended into depression.
My self-worth and identity were so wrapped up in the sense of purpose I felt from my work. If I no longer had that, who was I? What was I even doing with my time?
I felt adrift and unmotivated — barely able to get through the bare minimum each day, let alone feel any joy.
Eventually, I hit a breaking point, crying my heart out to my husband. The next day, I called my doctor. We adjusted my medication to better support depression alongside anxiety, and I started cognitive behavioral therapy. I focused on improving my mental health one day at a time — and made it my top priority.
Then, I was diagnosed with an eye condition. Oddly enough, it brought a kind of peace. At any other time in my life, I probably would’ve been frustrated about how much it pulled me away from work. But now, I saw it differently.
It gave me permission to slow down. To do what I could. To stop worrying about where I “should” be.
Lesson 12: Sometimes endings offer new beginnings
And then, two big things happened at once.
Within two months, I had two eye surgeries — and lost both of my dogs.
Rogue passed after a slow decline, the same week I had my first surgery. Dobby died unexpectedly just a day after my second.
Dobby was the first dog I ever adopted on my own. She had been with me through so many major life milestones — including getting married. Adopting her felt like a symbol that I had made it — that I had built something real and lasting. I thought we’d have five more years together.
But sometimes, life has other plans.
And sometimes, a big, unexpected change is exactly what you need to move forward.
Lesson 13: Small changes lead to bigger shifts
I knew the only thing that would help heal my broken heart was adopting another dog. Without that, I felt like I’d completely lose myself in grief. My home felt eerily empty, and even my memories of Rogue and Dobby felt inaccessible, too painful to touch.
I also knew there were dogs out there who needed a home — and I had one to give.
So a month later, we adopted Mocha. Then a few months later, we welcomed Raven.
That summer, it felt like I came back to life.
Shaking up my daily routines was exactly what I needed to shake off the lingering depression.
I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my career, but for the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful.
Somehow, I trusted that I’d figure it out. And that was enough.
Lesson 14: You don’t have to figure it out alone
Around that time, Victoria decided she was ready to move on from EmPress and explore other paths. It was an amicable ending, and I’ll always be proud of what we built together.
But it left me with a big question: Did I want to keep running EmPress on my own?
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to stay in blogging or WordPress — or if I was ready to explore something entirely new. I said as much in my application to a business retreat in Cabo.
Two months later, I was on a plane.
I spent the week in the pool, listening to inspiring speakers, and having long, honest conversations with fellow business owners. We talked about burnout. We shared stories. And somewhere in all of that — I started imagining new possibilities for EmPress. I started to feel excited again.
I didn’t leap into a rebrand or a new business model. I started small.
I came home and decided to write weekly emails again. I’ve taken occasional breaks, but for the most part? I’ve stayed consistent — 81 newsletters in just over two years.
Eventually, I started blogging again too — not on a strict schedule, but when it felt aligned. I focused on evergreen content I could promote again and again, and repurpose into emails over time.