“You have another blog?” he’s stunned. “Why do I not know about this? I’m your biggest fan.”
“No,” I respond without hesitation, “definitely not. That would be my mother.”
“Well, I’m still a pretty big…”
“She doesn’t know either, if that makes you feel any better,” I shrug.
“Not really.”
“Anyway yes, I have another one,” I admit with a wave of my hand. “Just for fiction. It’s called The Wrought Writer. I thought I should separate my actual writing from my, well, babble. If you were paying attention there were clues…”
“Brilliant!” he exclaims, ignoring my innuendo. “You’re a genius!”
“Why?” Now I’m the stunned one.
“Focus, of course!” Every successful venture needs focus!” He pumps his fist into the air.
“So, you don’t like my anything goes hazily themed blog?” My head tips towards my shoes.
“I do, I do! But, you should start another!”
Shouldn’t I be the excited one?
“I’m already drowning,” I confess. “I don’t think I need to add more water.”
“Definitely, another one. One with the other stuff…you know, the, babble?”
“But, that’s already on Hazy. Isn’t that kind of redundant?”
“But you somehow think putting your fiction on a separate blog is not?”
“Well, I guess it’s the same idea, but…”
“Self promotion is never redundant. Do people like your fiction more than your, um, babble posts?”
“It’s probably pretty even-steven, if I had to guess.”
“That settles it then,” he says confidently. “Go big or go home.”
And so, coinciding with my eightieth post, a few swift pushes and a shot of oxygen, at the ripe old age of forty-two, my new blog is crowning. (I knew I’d get a metaphor in there somewhere)
You’d think after branding three kids I’d know better than to open this can of worms but here goes…notions for names anyone?
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