My first blog post (now that I deleted the old ones).
I’m a writer. Unpublished, except that time I was a finalist in a Jeffrey Archer/Kobo contest. I’m going to publish. One day. Eventually. When the house is spotless, the kids are quiet for an hour while I pour over the Amazon TOS for authors, and there’s nothing shiny around me. Even though I’m well past the qualifications for legally blind status, you’d be shocked at how many shiny things I find to distract me.
I’m going to use this blog to post about life stuff. You know, the ups and downs that happen every day. Some days the goal will be to make you cry, other days? Make you laugh so hard you cry. Most days? I’ll be glad if I kept you reading past the first sentence. I’ll make stuff up, tell the truth, and fudge the rest. Maybe I’ll tell you what’s true and what’s not, maybe I won’t. Depends on how much coffee I’ve had and if we’re running low and I’m scared we’ll run out.
I’m talking to you like you’re my best friend. I might know you, I might not, but hopefully, as time goes on and you know me better, you at least like me enough to come back for the next post. Here’s one of those truths I’ll admit to – I’m talking to you right now because my family thinks it is annoying when I talk to myself. If you stare blankly at your monitor while “reading” this, not really absorbing anything, then I’ll feel like we’re family, or at least that you’re like one of my kids. Nod your head a bit and smile and I’ll call you my favourite. You can’t top the dog though. She tilts her head to one side and thumps her tail every time I speak, so good luck competing there.
I’ve got a heart full of love, a belly full of laughter (we’ll forget the Reese Peanut Butter cup I just sampled). I am overwhelmed with love and laughter, so I’ll purge some of it here. I’m hormonal at times, so I might cry sometimes too. If I’m crying, I’m going to do my best to make you cry too, because no one likes to cry alone. Tissues are to your left. Unless you keep them to the right of your computer. Or you’re reading this on your tablet at the coffee shop, in which case you’ll have to ask them where they are. Or go to the washroom and grab a bunch of toilet paper.
I’m Canadian. Some of us are really that nice. Some aren’t. My biggest struggle in writing books is conflict, because I need to resist having every character say “I’m sorry” every time they do something mean. Or getting them to do something mean in the first place. When I was a child, I tried to write a bullying story. Like Judy Blume’s book Blubber. Only calling another kid horrible names, even one who existed solely in my head, was too hard. I ripped the story up after the first time the word chubby was put to paper. I could see then, so I handwrote my stories. I still have most of them. Between my messy handwriting and my eyes, I’d need a runes translator and a vat of vodka to ever decide if I had potential. Now I just make the characters in my stories people I don’t like and would love to stir up conflict with. I ignore the ouch when I write conflict for the characters, even secretly enjoying the mouthy person giving dung to someone I don’t like.
I’m very spontaneous, so I can’t say come back every Tuesday for a new post. I might have a new post every hour for a week, then nothing for days. Maybe, if I have more than one reader (in other words, more than just me rereading my own stuff) I’ll set up a schedule. Of sorts. A loose ‘sometime between the 1st and 31st of the month. Or even a every week schedule if I’ve got more than two readers. All my kids can read so we might get lucky and one of them decides to drop by to stare at the screen with glazed eyes and a gut full of disappointment because they’d thought I might hint at what I was making for dinner.
So, that’s me. Nice to meet you. If you stick around, you might just be my new best friend. I’d share my snacks with you, but there’s just no way to pass the peanuts online. Which, if you’re allergic, will endear me to you even more because I’m glad I can’t share them with you because it might make you sick. Look at me, earning nut-free brownie points already.
Thanks for reading. Or at least pretending to. I’ll offer more as we get to know one another better.