Seriously. Starting a new blog is akin to giving birth. I know about this shit because I have four kids.

In an effort to deny my immortality and pursue my life-long passion, I decided to start this blog as a way to showcase my work, meet readers and other writers, and well, you know write stuff.

Much to my chagrin, I am not a tech person, as evidenced by this butt-ugly blog, but hey, we can’t be great at everything. Anyway, I’m doing my best. It only took me 72 hours to post all my non-fiction books. This is not because I have that many books, but rather, because I would rather eat rabbit (and I don’t eat rabbit) than play in the admin section of WordPress. Quite frankly, it scares me. And by the way, that 72 hours did NOT include sleep time, wine time, or seeing how many likes my latest post on facebook got time. Ahem.

Next, I have to write a bio. Hmmmm….what do I say about myself that hasn’t already been said? Wait a minute, that’s the whole purpose of this blog. My professional blog, which, er, looks like a real blog, because it IS,  is here. You see, I can justify a real blog where I pay an amazing webmaster person named Mike to create and host it because it’s my job; I sell houses. Yeah, I know, super exciting. Whoop-de-do. Actually, it isn’t bad. But it isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey either.

Speaking of which, I do not write porn. However, based on the latest sales stats of her trilogy, I officially hate her and am seriously considering writing porn; somebody hand me that cheese grater. It’s not that I’m bitter, mostly. I also officially hate JK Rowling…and the gal who wrote the Twilight series. I was pretty pissed at the Goosebumps author too, but I got over that one a few years ago. Point is,  it’s human nature to hate those who excel at what you love while you’re left in the dust, gnawing  on your keyboard and wondering why you didn’t come up with THAT idea that ended up selling a million books. Jeez, if all it takes is writing about hand cuffs…

But writing is like art. Come on, admit it. You’ve been to art shows or galleries or really cool wineries where you look at the painting  on display and are quite sure it was done by a meth-addicted hummingbird, right? I know I have. In fact, during my I-think-I-want-to-be-an-artist-Bob-Ross phase, my poor husband had to endure me critiquing every painting we saw. And we saw a lot. How else would I ever  be a famous artist if I didn’t scope out the competition? Truth is, even the art that my evil-high-heel-wearing-alter-ego rolls her weasely eyes at, often is the result of endless hours of academics, and equal time mixing colors, sniffing turpentine (why did they stop making the good stuff….woooooow), and studying technique. Same with writing.

It started in third grade with my Purple People Eater story that my grandmother still has a copy of from when she had it published in her company newsletter. I am pretty sure I plagiarized it. Oh well, a kid’s gotta learn. Anyway, back to my blog, and yes, I forgot to take my ADD meds today. Okay, not really. I do not take ADD meds. I will though, if you have extra? Ahem. Where was I? Oh yeah, my blog and writing, and my grandmother’s poor taste in literature. Anyway, this blog is a work in progress, as am I. And probably you are too. But what the heck? I’ve got two novels coming out late spring, one is hilarious and the other, adventure, and both will be available via Kindle or paperback.  Maybe I’ll sell millions, then you can officially hate me, and I’ll love every minute of it.

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