The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

There’s a new hot topic on Twitter today. I’ll let you go ahead and read that one yourself.

I will start by saying, I am not here to put down any other organization in internet land. Ever. Like, never. Because we all do our own thing to make our businesses work. But I’m here to tell you why we do pay our writers.

Your time is important. Your words are important. If you give us views – we give you cash. It seems like a no-brainer to me.

We weren’t always this way. When we started in 2012, our site was only reaching 20,000 views per month. But now, we’re more like 300,000+ views per month. Guess what? That’s still not much. But it’s enough. It’s enough to pay the bills to run our website and it’s enough to pay the fine writers who contribute each day.

It’s enough. Someday, I hope it’s more than enough. Wouldn’t that be grand?

“You pay up to $100 per article, Leslie? With only 300,000ish views per month? Um, how do you do that?”

Great question. I chat with God (a lot). I have incredible local business support and I work my backside off. My brain is constantly learning and strategizing and discovering new ways to bring in income for Her View From Home. And someday, I know it will pay off.

We raised our prices last summer. It was a long, tough decision but seemed like the obvious choice. How can we expect writers to provide quality content for us, if we’re only giving them a few likes on social media in return? I’m a writer – I don’t want a like. I want to buy a cup of coffee, or a sandwich, or a pair of shoes, or heck – pay a bill. I get it. So we raised it. Up to $100 per article.

There have been months when I was terrified we wouldn’t have enough. But here’s the thing – we pay per views. If your article is bringing us high views that month, you’ll cover (sometimes easily) the $100 paycheck we’re giving you. Duh. Like, duh.

There’s a lot of other fantastic sites in internet land that pay too. You words are good, very good. You deserve recognition for them.

I’ll leave you with a thought to ponder. If a little ole’ site like ours (small, but mighty and growing!) can afford to pay writers, why aren’t most sites?

And that’s that. You write, we pay. The end. Cool? Cool.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Leslie Means

Leslie is the founder and owner of Her View From Home.com. She is also a former news anchor, published children’s book author, weekly columnist, and has several published short stories as well. She is married to a very patient man. Together they have three fantastic kids.  When she’s not sharing too much personal information online and in the newspaper – you’ll find Leslie somewhere in Nebraska hanging out with family and friends. There’s also a 75% chance at any given time, you’ll spot her in the aisles at Target.

Maybe that “Mean Mom” Is Just Busy

In: Friendship
Woman walking away

Ever since Ashley Tisdale wrote about leaving her toxic mom group, I have noticed something shift among women my age, moms in our 40s who built friendships through school drop-offs, soccer sidelines, neighborhood walks, and birthday parties. Here is the thing….no one wants to be labeled the “mean girls mom group.” Recently, I was out to dinner with a friend when she shared something that stuck with me. A woman had quietly left their local moms’ group and later treated them as if they were exclusionary. The final straw? She had sent a group text at dinnertime and no one...

Keep Reading

I’m Going to Tell You the Things Your Mom Should Have Told You

In: Living, Motherhood
Mother with three grown daughters

During my oldest daughter’s freshman year of college, I started being haunted by a recurring dream of an old-fashioned suitcase—one of those hard-sided ones that’s as big as they come. In the dream, when I open the suitcase, it’s overflowing with clothing, shoes, and all kinds of stuff that belongs to me and each of my three daughters. Everything in the suitcase is all jumbled together. Nobody else in the dream is worried about sorting through everything, but I am totally stressed about it. To top it all off, I have to deal with this suitcase while preparing for a...

Keep Reading

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking over canyon

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

My In-Laws Don’t Like Me and It Breaks My Heart

In: Living
Family silhouette by the water

Since I was a little girl, I dreamed of what it might be like to gain an entire family when I got married. My parents were lovely. I never wanted for anything, and I had very involved grandparents. However, any other family was far away, and much of my childhood was lonely. I dreamed of brothers-in-law or sisters-in-law and their spouses to do life with. Maybe we would go on road trips together or stay in and play games and have a few drinks. I dreamed of raising our kids together and giving my children the cousin memories I only...

Keep Reading

We Fell Out of Friendship

In: Friendship
Woman gazing out window with coffee

It was just a normal Monday afternoon, sitting in the waiting room at the dentist’s office. I had one kid reading her Kindle quietly, one loudly proclaiming facts about the different fish in the large tank, and one arguing with her just because he could. I had completed all the forms online before our appointment, so we were simply waiting. Then you walked in. You, who used to be the sister of my heart.  Summers of sleeping in tents in my parents’ backyard, while you told me terrifying stories. The smell of hairspray from ’90s dance recitals while we twirled...

Keep Reading

There Was a Shooting at My High School; Can I Keep My Kids Safe Anymore?

In: Living
Kids with backpacks in front of school, view from behind

It is enough. I have had it. I had thought this year would be better. I tried to will it. I tried to convince myself with my resolutions during that first week in January. I typed my goals up in a neat little list. I was specific. Looked at it each morning. My goals focused primarily on being a good person. On prioritizing spending time with the people I love and the people I am responsible for. My goals focused on seeking the good while I feel there is a foot in a heavy boot on the center of my...

Keep Reading

Every Neighborhood Needs a Baby

In: Living
Woman playing pat-a-cake with a baby as toddler looks on

My grandmother was astounded when I told her I had met so many of her neighbors after we had only lived in her house for a couple of weeks. Grandma had decided to move into a senior citizens’ apartment building, and the timing was wonderful. John and I had been renting a townhouse, but once our baby, Christopher, was born, the situation wasn’t ideal any longer. Christopher was very fond of being awake and vociferous during the night, and the paper-thin walls of the duplex were horrible. When Grandma broached the idea of us renting her small two-bedroom home as...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

When Did We Change, Mama?

In: Living
Elderly mother and daughter

When did we change, Mama? Was it a moment? Or a gradual shift? When did I stop coming to you with my burdens and fears, and make room for you to come to me with yours? When did I sense you needed more comfort and guidance than I did? That it was time to present only my best side? My confident, reassuring, everything is fine side? So you wouldn’t have to worry needlessly, obsessively, like always before. Was it when I first began to notice you struggling to ease out of your favorite chair? Or the times you started forgetting...

Keep Reading

My ‘Dusty Son’ is 5

In: Living, Motherhood
Little boy holding out dandelion bouquet

As moms, we categorize everything. Girl mom. Boy mom. Wine mom. Outdoor mom. Farm mom. City mom. Now there’s been an uptick in social media trends about exposing our girls to worldly and fancy experiences so someday they’re “not impressed by your dusty son.” I won the parenting jackpot (in my humble opinion) and have an older daughter and a younger son. He’s five. Not a grown man making real-world decisions. Not a college kid learning how to adult. He’s five. He loves dinosaurs and Mario. His big sissy and his Great Dane. He is incapable of cruelty and is...

Keep Reading