And I’m monumentally exhausted. I have learned so much in the last month about writing and blogging and how best to get dog vomit out of your carpet.
After my son yelled at me to come and see what Max had done, twice, in his room, I ran back to my computer to look up how best to get it out (the lovely, brilliant yellow kind), since it had clearly been there awhile. I’m sitting there reading through the suggestions, when I get a new e-mail from BlogHer Executive Editor, Julie Ross Godar. And. I. Freak. Dog vomit forgotten. Oops.
And so begins a flurry of Mom is excited, the dog is excited, the boy is excited, Mom pulls up BlogHer, sure enough, there it is, front page of the home page and again, front page of News & Politics. Mom is excited all over again, dog is excited, boy is excited, garage door comes up, dad is home, dad is excited (in his own way). Husband is home early because I’m supposed to be getting ready to go to an author talk about how to get published at Warwick’s Books & Stationery. So I must tear myself away from the sight of my name in proverbial lights, and ready myself to meet:
Margaret Dilloway, “How to Be an American Housewife,” Putnam, 2010
Caitlin Rother, “Dead Reckoning” (among others), Pinnacle True Crime, 2011
And delightful and inspiring, Marjorie Hart (82!), “Summer at Tiffany,” a Memoir, Avon, 2007
I rush off, late of course, but with pretty good reason. I would have been on time, but said bookstore has two entrances and my ADD brain found the one door locked and was completely blocked from thinking my way around the obstacle. Sorry, Margaret, et al. I couldn’t fathom a worthwhile question, my cheeks were flaming red, and she almost certainly thought I was a stalker upon seeing my frazzled state. What I did get out of the evening, is that writers are an amazingly generous bunch. I endeavor to be like them one day, when I too am rich and famous. Oh wait, that’s the other thing I got out of the evening…getting published takes a really, really long time in most cases, and unless you’re Nicholas Sparks or the like, it ain’t gonna get you rich quick.
But I’m still dying to do it!
Oh yes, and once I got in the car and turned my phone back on, I had this text from my dear husband, “Hey, when the boy tells you the dog puked in his room would you pay attention. Been cleaning for a half hour.” Oops. Hello, Earth.