I am incapable of writing short blog posts.
However, here goes nothing.
I kept rereading the post I did yesterday, certain there was something I had missed, because it wouldn't leave me alone. It haunted me all night, in fact, I dreamed about it, abruptly sitting up in bed at 2am-ish, staring into the inky blackness in front of my face, waiting for the revelation to come. What was the message I had missed?
So I swung my legs out over the side of the bed, answered "nothing Rosey" to Derek's mumbled "MMffmmhum", and went to check on the kids. Often I wake up in the night, knowing to pray for someone or feeling strange and needing to check that my kids are okay, or even just with the intense desire to read the next chapter in a particularly engrossing book.
I made my way down the hall, checked to see that everyone was in bed with covers on, reassured myself that they were still breathing (yes, I'm one of those moms) and then found myself standing in front of the thermostat, squinting at the temperature and trying to decide whether or not I should add or subtract a degree of heat on such a cold night. Hmmmmm...
And that's when the idea popped into my brain.
All this time I'm spending writing blog posts about writing books. I think I'll just write a book.
So I'm beginning.
I'll start with an idea I have for a story and let's see where it goes. Now that was a profound sentence to type. Witness me summoning my bravery...
Why am I telling you all of this? I think I just want it documented that I will do the hardest thing there is for me, and begin.
Okay, I know I said the shortest post ever. Sorry.
But you know me. I was born to write chapters, not short posts.
So, on that note, I'll keep you posted. Hee hee, get it? Posted?
Here goes nothing.