Blog et Annum

Happy birthblog. Bloggy birthday. Happy blogiversary. Or something. One year ago on this night I signed into blogger.com and wrote and posted my very first blog entry. After being something of an overachiever last February when I believe I posted sixteen entries, I settled into a comfortable routine of writing a couple of times each week. I'll probably continue at this pace unless I suddenly feel the need to share too much with you. That would likely be followed by a period of silent reverie. But then I'd ultimately have to share what I was revering about. This writing business, it's a bit of an obsession or addiction or something. Something I don't feel as though I have much of a choice about. If I don't do it here, I journal. Or write poetry. Or work on one of the five or so novels-in-waiting that are still, well, waiting. After printing out the first draft of my only (so far) completed novel nearly nine (nine?!?) years ago, The Virgins Club remains in draft form. Despite three dogged years of doing research and contacting publishers all that I have to show for it are a file folder of rejection letters. Many of them informed me that they could not or were not interested in taking a look at my novel unless it came to them via an agent. So I spent a year attempting to secure an agent. As always, life has a way of going on and I found myself in the position of needing to find a job that actually paid me. So while I consider myself a writer, I write lab technician in that little box on my tax return. Maybe this year I'll write writer in that box. I believe in the self-fulfilling prophecy! And that laughter is healing. And that love is the strongest power that exists. That hope and faith are necessary and fundamental components of happiness. And finally, that purring cats, joy upon waking, and pie for breakfast are very, very good things.