Ooo, Stage Fright

Anyone who ever said this would be easy (and while I can't really think of anyone who did, but there must have been somebody) ought to be shot, nailed to a pole, and smacked upside on the head. Maybe I'm just deficient in one of those fundamental social ways, or intellectually, or dramatically. I shouldn't be any of them; I'm a writer, and want to be a published author, which involves a fair bit of society, intellect and drama. So grow up, Sangu. Write.


I've tried blogs before. I always either failed miserably or lost interest. I'm steadfastly, pigheadedly determined to avoid both this time around. I've managed to stick to Twitter for weeks, so why can't I stick to this? Why come back to it, you might wonder? What prompted me to decide, once again, to take a stab at this?


This did. I like Eric of Pimp My Novel. I like reading the things he says. In fact, I'm so deeply lost in the mire of the unpublished-writer-who-is-determined-to-get-her-book-published, I'm willing to listen to an awful lot Eric-of-Pimp-My-Novel says. And the first thing Erik-of-Pimp-My-Novel says in that post is that if I'm an author and not yet published, I should have a blog and start it now. Maybe he meant 'start once you have an agent', which is a step I have not yet attained. Oh, well. Start, I have. To be honest, I considered it weeks ago, when I first started editing The Novel.


So here we are. The blog. The blog of a writer-who-wants-to-be-an-author, and yes, there is the difference between the two words. More soon. Must do washing up before Lindsey (a.k.a Dopey, Linds, BaggyWaggy and Yer Mum) shoots me in the head.


Book recommendation: Kushiel's Dart, by Jacqueline Carey, and the subsequent books in the trilogy.