“How’s your blob?” This, from my dear mother (aka Jean the Queen) who’s idea of writing has to do with a pen and a lovely card or letter which she writes and sends to various fortunate people in her life. A blog, a book, a letter: who’s to say which is better?

“It’s called a blog, Mom.”


“A blog.”

“So have you been blobbing?”

Sigh. (Are you really not hearing me or are you amusing yourself?)

This, part of a recent conversation with my mother about the various activities in our lives. The year has been full, and sometimes things get pushed aside in order to make room for other things.

My cousin tried to warn me. When I started this blog (see first post here: ), he cryptically said, “It’s like buying a cat. You have to feed it.”

I’ve been starving this cat a bit, but it will survive. It will survive while I muddle around learning how to sell – something I rate right up there on my ‘the last thing in the world I’m comfortable with’ list the way other people rate public speaking.

It will rub up against the furniture while I write posts for other bloggers in order to let different audiences know about my book.

It will hide under the bed while I figure out the best way to autograph a book (on the title page under the title, full name – subject to change as I learn) and how to do a reading at a book store (introduction of myself, the genesis of the book, and 15 minutes of reading followed by book signing – subject to change as I learn).

It will wander outside and get stuck in a tree while I try to figure out how to make a meme. Yes, I did figure out how to find a hat for the monkey just last night. My struggle with a computer design program, which for all intents and purposes seems quite a simple way to design memes or ads or whatever we should call them for the general population, has been much longer than is understandable even to me. The fellow who narrates the tutorial (the one who tells me to find a hat to put on the picture of the monkey) has a lovely voice and seems so calm. He would be appalled at what is happening on my end of the computer every time he gives a next instruction.

It will jump into a chair and nap while I make cold calls and send emails and a review copy of my book to bookstores.

But every so often, I’ll reach down and pet it and feed it. Someday soon when I’ve figured things out, I’ll get back to writing more again which will satisfy not only the cat, but me, too. And my mom. Though she doesn’t read my blog. And calls it a blob.

Photo: imagesX15DD7Q1

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