Oh I have to blog today…
It is 8:24 AM and I am supposed to take my oldest son to camp in a few minutes so he can spend the day getting very, very dirty and loving every moment of it. I’ll admit, I’ve been a little preoccupied and I forgot to write this last night. So forgive me, if it’s not up to par.
Speaking of my oldest son, his newest and absolute favorite activity is asking his father to tell him a story. Now, as Daddy has informed him, Mommy gets paid to tell stories and yet it’s not me he wants stories from. I understand this, despite his protests, Daddy tells great stories too.
When I look at my oldest, I see so many traits that I had myself as a child. He spends a lot of time living in is head. At his violin recital last week, he stared at something unknown in the audience until it was his turn to play and then he played perfectly. I would have done the same thing as a child. I used to call it living in my head.
To a certain extent, I still live that way. Try calling me in the middle of the day to ask me about changing a sink that doesn’t fit in the kitchen renovation while I’m writing and see if you et a coherent answer from that makes any sense. My poor husband, he attempted that yesterday.
A good friend recently called my writing, my secret life, my other life. On one hand you have me, stay-at-home Mom, volunteers for school activities, runs errands, meets for coffee, and handles bumped knees. This is the part of me that my friends and family know.
They know I have this other part of me, this thing I do, that I have started to have small successes with. They’re curious because how in heavens does this relate to the Rebecca who handed out cupcakes at the end of the year nursery school party? How and when does she spend time thinking about dimensional travel and werewolves?
I’ll answer that. I am almost always thinking about two things at the same time. I am absolutely focused on you when you talk to me. I listen, I compute, I remember, and I care. But while we talk about carpooling, I am also thinking about my hero who when I went to bed last night wasn’t sure if my heroine was going to live through the night. I can’t help it.
But here’s the thing, as I prepare for the first time, to open up private imaginings, what essentially amounts to my hidden life, for the first time on August 3rd when Her Wolf: The Westervelt Wolves Book 1 release from Liquid Silver Books (www.liquidsilverbooks.com) I will be showing not only people who do not know me but all the people who I do what it is that I’ve spent my time thinking about. I would be lying if I said that this doesn’t scare me to death.
How about all of you? Have you ever had to show something to everyone you love and care about and did that scare you or am I just oversensitive?
