Naked

Hmmm. So it turns out people other than my friends and family are actually reading this thing, which makes me feel rather exposed—ridiculous, I know, given that this is a blog and the whole point is that other people should be able to read it. Tee hee. But these last few months, I really have felt that this was like a souped up postcard. We hung out with the sea lions at Fisherman’s Wharf, wish you were here, etc. My first indication that strangers were frequenting the blog was when some guy left a comment advertising his book. I thought that was pretty cheeky but, hey, writers have to market themselves these days, so fair play to him. Then, I had my YA author visit. (See Ha! I deserved that for further information). Now, through secret squirrelly computer detective work, I know that I have at least once had a reader in Mexico. Exciting, no? Also, I seem to have a small following in New Jersey.

Cheers m'dears

Thank you everyone who sent supportive emails and made postings yesterday. I announced my blog to the world, went to the gym, and when I got back I had all these nice messages and a lovely warm feeling inside. Aww.

Welcome to my blogoverse

Welcome everybody! So this is my first attempt at a blog and I must admit I feel just a wee bit cooler and more urban than I do on an ordinary day. It's about time I jumped into the blog-o-verse or whatever it's called. After all, this is San Francisco, man, and everybody here is very webby.
But, while I may be living in the birthplace of the Flower Children (and they are still around, let me tell you, wrinkled as old plums and oddly out of step with the rest of the world, but doing their thing and loving it, bless them), the most chilled city on the West Coast, possibly in the whole United States, I am still me and therefore I have goals for this little venture.
First, it's a way to keep people in touch with what I'm up to which I'm sure will be a tremendous comfort to my mother, far-flung friends and random folk who accidentally stumble onto this page. Second, I actually feel a physical need to write something because while I have trotted out 20,000 words of a second novel I stopped my daily writing exercises as soon as I got the ruddy job at the ruddy bookstore, which means I am starting to lose faith, and am growing frustrated and morose. And bitchy.
And last of all, I am sick to death of people saying, "Oh, you're a writer? So do you have a blog?" Seriously, it comes up at least once a week, and people look at me with these encouraging, expectant California grins while I kind of shuffle my feet and turn pink and say, "Um, no. I'm not really a technical person." Well, I'm still not, but now I do.