Self Indulgent birthday weekend – phase three! (A Confession)

So I think I need to come clean, though I think some of you know it already.

I am one of Those Bloggers Who Would Like To Be Published. 

I’ve always written. I love it, really.

I love really how writing can tell you things; how it can unpack and spill things open for you to stare at and realise it was like that all along. I love how writing can hold your hand through the shadows and bring you to the light. I love how writing can let you shape and mould and play with words and then suddenly, sharply, fling them into combinations that never quite worked before but now, somehow they do. I love how writing can be unpacked, how the position of a thought or a statement and the way it’s presented can mean a thousand thing. I love how writing people lets me understand people and admire people and have faith that somehow we’ll sort it out. 

And one day I’d like to be published. I’d like to be published. 

It is a big thing for me to put this here, the biggest perhaps.

I am so very careful to keep this blog about books and reviewing and about critique, but this is my birthday weekend and I am indulging myself and I will press publish before I will let myself think twice about posting.

So that’s that.