So addicted in fact that the desire to have some of my own writing published on it was one of the final arse-kicks that got me writing again – 500 word vignettes into parenting four boys (a sort of Marley & Me but without having to pick up dog shit or pay vet bills) that I gave the umbrella title ‘Domestic Oblivion’.
I sent one off about a week and a half ago but haven’t followed up on it, because following up on things tends to make me hot and not in a good way.
Yeah I know, idiot.
I could have sent them the other two I’ve written as well I guess, but my whole axiety-laden aversion to pitching myself, cold-calling and self-promotion is one of the big reasons I’m sitting here in true domestic oblivion not polishing my framed literature awards and trophies.
Anyway, Emma wrote a piece for The Punch on the rise of the mummy blogger today and she.mentioned.me.
I had to blog about it because Chef just kinda looked at me and my associated excitement with a mixture of being creeped out and that just smile and indulge her sentiment. Bless him.