I was going to spend this week celebrating the contents of my closet, rustling through my archives and sharing my daily rediscovery process.
But here it is:
I am SO bored of talking about myself.
Writing in one's own voice is a treat for a mercenary wordsmith such as myself.
But the central presumption of the blogosphere will never cease to perplex me: that somebody other than myself and my grandma and my very patient HCB wants to hear the minutiae of my life.
Grandma did always say I was special, but nobody is that interesting.
So, inspired by this woman, whom I discovered through a very random turn of events, I hereby name this Fiction Week at someonemightcare.
I have never written fiction before, so I may very well be spelling D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R one agonizing post at a time. Or you won't hear from me until the week is over, like the folks at NaNoWriMo.
At the very least, it will be interesting. As a bonus, I'll sneak in descriptions of my shoe selections somehow.
You know, because committing to writing fiction isn't hard enough.
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