Fourteen years ago I wrote a book. In a few months from now it will be published. Call me a freak but I want people to read it. That is why I started this blog. I felt that if people had a sample of my writing, they would want to read my book (I don’t even care if people buy it—just read it! And then send me fan mail. Money is good, too. You can keep your firstborn. Unless you want to trade yours for mine. Just kidding. Sort of). That by having my book cover prominently displayed on my blog, people would be exposed to it and would be more inclined to pick it up, whether it be at the library, on Amazon.com, at a garage sale, at the thrift store, on a stack of garbage on the corner of Fifth and Main, it matters not, as long as people give it a chance.
So, this is why I started this blog. However, it is more complicated than that. I have to know that people are visiting my blog, reading my blog, enjoying my blog, because that means, Hey! Success! when it comes to the book that has been waiting to be read all these long fourteen years, stuck in the proverbial drawer, rarely seeing the light of day except when we moved, (but only when we dropped the box it was in, spilling the contents all over the ground).
What I am trying to say is that all of my lame efforts to “be popular” are really all about me, my book, me, my writing, me, my blog, and me. And that’s okay, right? Coming to my blog, reading my blog, are all good and well but comments, becoming a “follower” or whatever lame, insecure thing I ask you to do, are all about feedback from you to me, letting me know whether or not I can start planning on a future as a famous writer (don’t forget rich) because that’s really all I have ever wanted.
Except for the husband and kids and the little cottage and the garden and the color pink everywhere I look and some cute clothes, especially ones that coordinate with the seasons, and a little white dog (well, she’s pretty optional) and the basic necessities of life like food and shelter and water and a car to get me around and a phone and a computer. But, hey! I have all of those things! The chance to be a writer that people read is on the table right this very second. So, tell your friends. Unless, of course, you hate me, and then you would probably just not do anything helpful at all whatsoever. And I get that. I do. (I would hate me, too.)
So, this is why I started this blog. However, it is more complicated than that. I have to know that people are visiting my blog, reading my blog, enjoying my blog, because that means, Hey! Success! when it comes to the book that has been waiting to be read all these long fourteen years, stuck in the proverbial drawer, rarely seeing the light of day except when we moved, (but only when we dropped the box it was in, spilling the contents all over the ground).
What I am trying to say is that all of my lame efforts to “be popular” are really all about me, my book, me, my writing, me, my blog, and me. And that’s okay, right? Coming to my blog, reading my blog, are all good and well but comments, becoming a “follower” or whatever lame, insecure thing I ask you to do, are all about feedback from you to me, letting me know whether or not I can start planning on a future as a famous writer (don’t forget rich) because that’s really all I have ever wanted.
Except for the husband and kids and the little cottage and the garden and the color pink everywhere I look and some cute clothes, especially ones that coordinate with the seasons, and a little white dog (well, she’s pretty optional) and the basic necessities of life like food and shelter and water and a car to get me around and a phone and a computer. But, hey! I have all of those things! The chance to be a writer that people read is on the table right this very second. So, tell your friends. Unless, of course, you hate me, and then you would probably just not do anything helpful at all whatsoever. And I get that. I do. (I would hate me, too.)
This entry was posted
on Friday, October 3, 2008
at Friday, October 03, 2008
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I'm not as desperate as I sound
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