I’m pretty sure it’s documented somewhere that I’m about 16 different kinds of crazy. Okay, fine…maybe 17.
I lose my keys in my purse all the time, will forget what I am saying if I see something shiny, and am pretty sure that The Husband signed me up for Lasik eye surgery a few years ago because he got tired of helping me find my glasses on my face.
So what makes me think I can keep up with yet another blog? Because as long as I have a pen shoved in my bra (trust me, it’s perfectly happy next to my blackberry and not in danger of getting lost) and a notebook in my back pocket, I have the time to quickly jot down the little moments unique to the parenting experience and then quickly type them out in a blog post, click “save,” and then schedule a publishing date. I already have nine posts up and ready to go, which gives my brain a nice little vacation.
I officially launched The Afterbirth a few days ago, and am pretty pleased so far. No one’s beating down my door with a publishing contract (yet) but no one has told me I suck at this writing thing and need to go back to devoting my life’s work to asking people if they are interested in today’s specials or my last gig as a peon without a byline at a big city newspaper. So I’m gonna keep on keepin’ on.
Parenting and the memories I’m collecting as I go is really made up of a bunch of little moments that flitter in and out of my head faster than Buttercup is growing. With inspiration from sites like Six Word Stories and A Small Stone, I decided to channel those random thoughts into a blog dedicated to the creative inspirations born every moment since I became a mother. They are short, punchy, and probably would look really good on a T-shirt. Hey, I’m just sayin’.
I’m not pretentious enough to call it poetry. But it is something I think other parents will relate to.
So go ahead and take a look. Let me what you think.
And if you happen to get the creative urge to share, drop me a line. I don’t have a specific word limit or format in mind; just share what you would honestly have time to write out before your own little muses say “Mom” again. There…time’s up.
It’s a funny thing; Before embarking on my journey to becoming a famous writer before I’m dead, I read books like Ariel Gore’s Atlas of the Human Heart without any real thought to the writer behind the story. But reading it with the eyes of a writer made me want to crawl into the pages and hug Gore for her honesty, high-five her for her bravery, and beg her to share a cup of coffee with me just so I could…you know…bask.
