I saw this meme last night and started chuckling…
I snortled to the point where HH cast me one of THOSE looks that said I had spent too much time catching up on social media and fine tuning a late blog post (not this one, obviously!), and not nearly enough sofa time with him.
(You would almost think we hadn’t seen each other for 14 hours or something! Go figure…)
Being a chick with a pulse, I naturally took my time admiring Jack Sparrow, makeup and all. Hey, it’s Johnny Depp, what can I say? What’s a little eyeliner between friends?
But then, as often happens with this brain of mine, I started thinking metaphorically and drawing all sorts of random comparisons between blogging and setting sail on unknown waters, pirates, sharks, buried treasure, battles at sea, hidden coves and all. It was all there except for the rum. I’m not much of a fan of rum, as it happens.
In any case, I realized suddenly that I have been sailing my Writership with no map, a broken compass, sails at half mast and no rudder. I sell nothing. I promote nothing. There is no proper advice to be found here, no recipes or tips or hints about anything, really. What I have created this past year is basically an ecclectic mishmash. My blog is a disorganized closet full of ideas and bursting with potential, but with little more than a few hundred sparkly shoes, some discarded nylons, piles of ironing, a dusty bowling ball, muddy boots, crumpled receipts and a few chicken feathers.
Honestly, who WOULDN’T want to read all this? Bahahaha!
I suppose what got me waxing all philosophical was the realization that I sailed past my one year blogversary last month. I started wondering exactly where I am going with this site. Am I a serious writer? I don’t think so, really. I dip my toe in to serious subjects occasionally, but generally I’m a pretty cheerful soul and don’t like slinking about in the dark for long periods of time. I’d much rather make people laugh than cry, though if I succeed in a combination of the two, I’m good with that.
But is there a book in me? I doubt it. I am more Bombeck than Steinbeck, though to be fair, Erma did write a fair few books herself. She was the original “blogger.” Her entries were carried via newspaper back in the olden days when people actually read things IN PRINT. She had the world in stitches with her self-deprecating wit and extraordinary stories of life in Suburbia.
I so wish I had taken up my pen during those mad, mad years when my own kids were growing up. While I could never have hoped to approach Erma’s talent for storytelling – oh, the fodder for humour! Talk about missed opportunities…
So, alas, here I am plucking feathers in this empty nest and doing my best to make my guests feel warm and welcome, maybe even loved a bit, in spite of the unruly pile of sparkly shoes. It’s what mother hens do, after all! While I cannot say for sure where my Writership is heading, I do so hope you will stick around for another year of my squawking. Come on – snuggle in beside me! There’s a space between the ironing board and the bowling ball with your name on it.
Cluck on, y’all… and pass me that spyglass!
- feature photo (red sails): shutterstock
- worst writer meme: memecenter.com, via manny perez
- confusion meme: tinalicious.com
- spyglass: funny-pictures.picphotos.net
- ugly boat below: boatdesign.net
Here is a picture of what I WISH my Writership looked like:
Unfortunately, this is a bit closer to the mark…
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