You might not know that in the course of the last week, I’ve gotten blogmarried (I know! I was as surprised as you, but somehow, when these things happen and appear to be a done deal before you even show up at the conversation (and it’s to a totally fabulous writer, who’s a load of fun and a good friend, to boot), it seems rather ungracious to offer anything but a hugely enthusiastic “YES PLEASE!”), and accepted my role in a group of fantasy villainesses as Cruella DeVil (probably because I’m English and wear furs).
So whilst there’s fun and frolics afoot, the wonderfullest (it’s a word, and don’t you dare underwiggly-red-line it!) thing in the Blogosphere is still the writing. Both creating and consuming it.
And consume it I do. I have an absolutely voracious appetite, and the corner of the Blogosphere I’ve found myself in is rather less like panning for gold than it is raking your hands through piles and piles of sparkling, glittering jewels, and picking out the most weighty, beautiful, perfect-carat-lovely gems and keeping them.
I’m so lucky, because the world I step into when the screen dissolves and my neurons start sparkling, is FILLED with gems, and when I hit the mother-load of delicious writing-y goodness, it’s like the world slows down to a stop, and nothing else matters except those words; those awesome, captivating, transforming words…and I am undone.
In fact, the writing can be so good, it…well. No. I can’t possibly tell you here! This isn’t that sort of blog!
But you know whose is ‘that’ sort of blog? Why, none other than my brand new BlogWife’s – that’s whose! And, well, you know how couples start to write like each other (No? You’ll know after you read this…)
|My Very Cruella-est. With fur. Imagine the MUA-HA-HA!|
Aaaaaaaaaaand my own theme song? Don’t mind if I do…