It’s really hard. I know no one is making me write these posts, and no one except my husband is reading them, but it’s still strange to write things down and expect that maybe some day someone else will read them.
That probably sounds stupid to you know if you know I was an English major (Side note: NO ONE ever says, “Katherine has an English degree.” People say, “Katherine was an English major,” or “Katherine is an English major.” It’s like the major part is more important than the fact that I completed my degree.). The thing is, though, that people who major (and graduate with degrees) in English aren’t necessarily good creative writers. I certainly am not. I can read real good and I can write you a manual on hospice software, but I can’t really write you a short story.
(Another side note: And I’m sure as hell not going to write a novel. I found out that November is the month you’re supposed to work on your novel. It’s like a national movement. Is the goal to get published? If you’re writing a novel, more power to you, but does anyone know how hard that is? It’s like the equivalent of an online movement to get a spot on the next space shuttle that launches. Like, that’s probably not going to happen.)
Anyway, I hate this stupid blog. I think I might be kind of funny in person, and people I don’t know very well tell me they love my Facebook posts, but this blogging thing is hard.