Sometimes I get the feeling deep down in the hard, crystally, freezer-burnt depths of my stinky soul that I’m not being as prolific a blogger as I’d like to be these days. Because the fact of the matter is…
HEY!
WAIT! Come back!
Look, I know you’re about a millisecond away from closing this browser window with a woeful sigh and mumbling that I’m getting all petulant and whiny about “not having time to write posts” or whatever, and if you wanted to listen to moping you’d go back and review your first year philosophy notes from college. I get it. But, please. Give me a chance. This isn’t that. I swear on the sweet, dark chocolately souls of all the M&M’s I’ve consumed in the past year.
*moment of silence for M&M’s*
What I mean is that I feel like I could be posting more because I’m not always confortable rambling excessively about what’s on my mind. Sure, sometimes it’s not problem. My life amuses me plenty, and I fairly often do something ridiculous enough to warrant mentioning it. Plus, cookies and/or brownies are always good topics of discussion. But when I’m not acting like a fool or making delightful snacks and/or shoveling them down my munchietube*, I’m mostly thinking about books.
Specifically, that is, my books. And writing them. Or even writing in general, and everything that goes along with the daily trudge from Chapter One to The End. It’s a life-altering, swear-inducing, hair-curling, soul-crushing, joy-giving, confidence-affirming process that can swing your emotional pendulum from one side of the sanity arc to the the other in less than twenty minutes flat.
I just don’t want to bore you with all of it.
Because I spend so much time writing and/or contemplating it, it’s hard to shove my attention onto something else. Many days, then, I don’t have anything else swirling about in the ghost town of my head compelling enough to be the subject of an entertaining blog post. For instance, I can’t even think of interesting things to write about beer anymore, and if that doesn’t tell you how serious I am bout this, nothing probably will.
So concocting a post topic can be like going to cupboard for the cookie jar and finding nothing but an endless supply of beef jerky. Sure, I love beef jerky. But if I gave you twenty pounds of it and nothing else, you’d want to shove it down my throat until I sneezed dry, salted beef flakes.
Which is why I’m thrilled to announce that I was recently selected as one of the new, regular blog contributors for Middle Grade Minded, a blog with a laser-like focus on Middle Grade stories and the variety of ways people like me tell them.
The hope is that with that particular writing-related itch scratched, I’ll have a little more headspace available to ramble about Oompa Loompas, the rise and fall of civilization, and possibly even why my shoes make me uncomfortable. You know, all the things that have traditionally filled the pages of Puddintopia since 2010.
And if that doesn’t get your follicles all a-tingle, well, I guess you should maybe be using a different dandruff shampoo.
Pud’n
*Seriously, “munchietube” might be the worst word I’ve ever made up. I can’t decide if reminds me more of one of those annoying kids shows with fully-costumed sing-a-long monsters, or one of those kinks that requires a full-color diagram and a strong constitution. Let’s agree to never use it again.
Puddintopia 