I walk along my neighborhood’s main drag, literary agent Michelle Brower’s advice stomping around inside my head. From her query letter workshop yesterday afternoon I learned that new authors are expected to have a platform, a group of people already following their writing. Ten thousand hits a month on a blog is a good start.
Well, shit. Hello floor, meet my jaw.
I need to get busy, and fast, but what the hell can I write about that will entice you to read? I am obscenely fascinated with what goes on inside other people’s minds, call it my little kink if you will. I can only hope that you will be interested in what goes on inside of mine. While my Alter Ego may shock you, we are one and the same: She is the me not many get to see. I’d love to introduce the two of you, here in the relative safety of the internet.
Since this is my very first post, and you are actually reading it, I bet a million bucks you either know me in real life, know someone in my circle of family/friends or my husband paid you to subscribe to my blog. If you came from somewhere else, then hot damn! Welcome to the fold.
No matter who you are or how you got here, I worry about what you will think of me as I strip the outer layers from myself until I’m down to my bare ass. We may have a personal connection and still have to look in each other's eyes after this is posted so as a courtesy to you, here are some rules I will never, never, never, ever follow:
1. No embarrassing stories about, or references to, anyone but me.
1. No embarrassing stories about, or references to, anyone but me.
If I don't make examples of the people in my real life, what else have I got? I have no idea if or when I'll tell a story with you in it, but I promise it will be in context and absolutely, one hundred percent necessary for the point I’m trying to make. It will never be mean, just to be mean, but it will be the truth as I see it. Your truth may beg to differ.
2. No offensive language, gratuitous cursing or taking the Lord's name in vain.
My Alter Ego swears like a fucking sailor. I rarely let her out when I speak but she demands to be heard when I write. She voices her opinionated self however she likes which means she often makes her point with fuck, shit and acronyms like OMFG or WTAF (check out http://www.urbandictionary.com/ if necessary). I'm okay with that and fully support the First Amendment.
Surely there are more rules I need to break. I must be forgetting something.
Surely there are more rules I need to break. I must be forgetting something.
Ah. Right.
3. No mention of Adam Lambert.
3. No mention of Adam Lambert.
Pshh. Like I'd ever agree to that. I can hear you all now, laughing your damn heads off, aren't you? That's okay. My Alter Ego thinks it's hilarious, too, so let's call it even.
Adam Lambert is the reason I write. I'd call him my muse but the image that pops into my head of a breezy, sheer, angelic apparition does not work. I'd rather call him my fuse, which conjures up exciting, electrifying, powerful energy. That! That is exactly what he is to me.
If I haven't scared you off, I hope you’ll come back to visit. We can let it all hang out together! Everyone has to start somewhere.
Adam Lambert is the reason I write. I'd call him my muse but the image that pops into my head of a breezy, sheer, angelic apparition does not work. I'd rather call him my fuse, which conjures up exciting, electrifying, powerful energy. That! That is exactly what he is to me.
If I haven't scared you off, I hope you’ll come back to visit. We can let it all hang out together! Everyone has to start somewhere.
