Sunday, January 11, 2009

The Year of the Worrywart and other tales

Hello all, I'm so sorry I haven't been around to post lately. I've been knitting and having pity parties, but I'm done and ready to get on with it.
Of course, I neglect to mention that the placement thing is still hovering around but that's more because I'm tired of writing about it and I'm certain you're tired of hearing it.
So the big worry right now? Let's just say that if I had a dollar for every time I heard the word on the news, it wouldn't be a problem anymore.
Now here is something shocking.
I wrote a book.
Yes, I wrote a book. It's a book of short stories that I wrote the summer before last and self-published.
Writing and I have an odd relationship. While I enjoy it (I think), I've always had problems with volume. Essays longer than ten pages in university gave me the shakes and writing them was like wrenching little word-teeth out of the dark recesses of my BS machine brain. Needless to say I was ever so proud of myself for turning out a whopping 160 pages of short stories (I know it doesn't count (forgive the pun) like a novel, but it's pretty good for me).
So, you ask, is it any good?
The way I explain it is this. A photography student will take thousands of photos and only ten will be worth looking at. My stories follow the same pattern. The last one, my favourite, is, in my humble opinion, worth reading, but the rest...well, that's another story (give me a break, it's PUNday).
Would you like to read one?