I've written three books on this blog, and am getting close (another 5 k?) to a third of a way through on my most recent lovefest, PoloGRRL. I've found an agent on this blog, and I'm subbing on this blog. I even found a crit group on this blog. And friends. Soooo bizarre.
And I love my blog. And my blog loves me. I think it is funny and weird, and kind of does exactly what I want my blog to do for me, which is namely provide an outlet for my writing thoughts as well as anything else that sounds or is interesting about what I'm thinking about.
So many of my lovely friends write such great posts, so much time and effort gone into them. I really appreciate that. I love it, actually. Right now lately, though, I'm realizing I begrudge any time or creativity that is not spent on PoloGRRL or Forester's Son (or what-have-you wip), specifically on a post for the blog. I'd rather blow that creativity on my wip, you know?
I write this blog for me (and all my buddies, you buddies, out there) that just want another blog to read about some nutty, eclectic writer with two hairless cats. I make no claims to be the best at anything, to write the most profound posts, to be the funniest girl. I'll leave that for all the ones that are so good at it. And the internet has so much information on writing, the hows, whys, whats...I can only tell you what works for me.
So I guess this is a notice that I'll continue to make this blog what cracks me up; a repository for notes to myself on the current WIP as well as other things I want to keep track of; and a place where, if you read enough, you'll know me pretty well.