Okay, I STILL haven't done the author bio. My kids had commitments and I had the transport. I also have to write and record a few things about myself for another situation, which I will elaborate upon in a later post. The thing is, I actually DON'T KNOW what to say. Being Australian, female, and a product of the Seventies and Eighties, it's not really the done thing to blow your own trumpet, is it?
I've been sitting on my lounge feeling anxious because I have to do something which is causing me anxiety - but don't worry, my health is fine. I'm just a little nervous about something to which I've put my name. Again, Reader, all will be revealed in a later post. Possibly. Should be. In the meantime, tonight I will attend my meditation circle and send loving healing thoughts to what is bothering me. And no doubt feel like a bit of a twerp because what bothers me is essentially a First World Problem.
Okay, Simone - deep breaths. Don't panic. What's something good about you?
1. I am the author of three published novels and looking forward to getting my fourth out soon-ish. I'm actually very proud of my fourth; it's a variation on my usual writing style, and I think it's a very good book.
2. I make a damn fine Caesar salad.
3. My trivia team, which comprises one other person (although my not-quite-sixteen-year-old has often come along to help) pretty much always wins. Unfortunately, the venue is not having trivia lately so my mate and I are missing our fix, as well as the $200.00 prize money. Either the venue didn't advertise it very well, or we scared off our rivals. If the latter be the case, I beg the fraidy cats to return. Myself and my team mate are not scary. We are smart, but we are not scary.
4. I am a loving wife and mother. Why, just Sunday gone I became concerned I might have been transmogrifying into some type of Stepford wife after I pegged out four loads of washing, prepared a baked lunch, and mended the rip in my son's school trousers. No, I did not type that wrong. I actually sewed up a rip. Years ago, I used to spend most Sundays hung over on the lounge, with the occasional hickey adorning my swan-like neck. Now, I'm a paradigm of nurturing goodness (I think).
I have some things to which I must attend. Of course, I must liaise with the publishers over my author bio and dedications, and finalisation of manuscript.
I must prepare a little piece for my Thursday writer's meeting. The subject this month is 'happiness'. Whilst pondering this theme, I have had 'Happy' by the Rolling Stones in my head. What is a little different about this song from most Stones' numbers is the vocalist is Keith Richards. Well, I guess he has credit as the 'vocalist', but he does have a pretty awful voice. Could have been worse. They could have recruited Bill Wyman to do the vocals. 'Je Suis Un Rock Star', anyone? Truly, Keith has defied every universal law going. He's still alive, he's still upright, he's still somewhat compus mentis; how is this?
Well, best get to work...
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