She Sold A Digital Baby (A Melodramatic Reenactment)
July 2010, somewhere in New Hampshire, a balmy summer evening.
Our heroine, a young, precious Molly, driving her mom's car. Her head swarms with anxious excitement and maybe a little bit of dread and the familiar roads are soothing. Let's put something on the radio - "Send Me On My Way" seems appropriate. She's two weeks into funemployment after what may or may not have been a foolish idea to leave a job with no prospects.
A thought bubble. A blog! A new one! A project to throw herself into! Perfect! Exclamation Point! A previous blog about crafting was well received but shockingly there just isn't much to say about crocheting. With screeching tires a u-turn is pulled and she's on her way back to her laptop. (Just kidding, I'm pretty sure I got ice cream first, but, you know, DRAMA.)
Classic movie montage, words flying across the screen as sweat forms on our female lead's brow. And thus, Wicked Cheap in Boston was born. The outlet adds purpose to an otherwise floundering few months of city-wandering and fruitless job searching.
Over the next five years she writes, evolves, updates, pauses, resumes, reorganizes. She becomes part of a thriving blogging community and makes wonderful friends (which may turn out to be the most valuable aspect of the whole venture. The internet was made for connection, was it not?) She gets emails addressed to "Ms. Molly Blogger" and gets to try new things and experience new experiences.
Eventually, she's ready to pack it in and move along. A new blog is born more quietly, less fanfare, fewer bells and whistles. (Hint: it's this one.) She's on a minimalism kick, after all. But what to do with the first kid? This is a normal problem of childrearing, right? What happens to the old model when the new one comes along. (She's the youngest of five and, therefore, the best. #Logic.)
Undecided, she lets it just hang out. The last post has a bunch of Beyonce gifs being fabulous so it's only making the internet more beautiful anyway. Then, Bloop! (That's the email alert noise.) An offer to take the whole thing off her hands.
To sell the child or not. A question every parent must contend with...
July 2015, Harvard Square, a balmy summer evening (actually it's beautiful out but SYMMETRY.)
Molly steps out of a coffee shop feeling buoyant. With unexpected relief, she has let go of the reigns. After figuring out the technical mumbo jumbo (she was never good at that part anyway), the whole kit and caboodle is in a new parent's hands. A website with a small and quiet following may seem like a trivial thing in the vastness of the internet, but it equals countless hours of work and it took internal debate over whether to let it go. This lightness indicates she made the right decision. It was time and it feels right. She gets a burger.
Slow pan out as "Solsbury Hill" plays, obviously.