Up until about 3 weeks ago, I didn't really know I could write. I've always been kind of out of touch with my capabilities, I guess. I'm a self-proclaimed 'self-deprecating, it's-always-funnier-if-you're-laughing-AT-me-not-with-me type of person.' I know- twisted.
I have always been the creative girl... as in, History Class.... eh. Doodling during History Class... ya! Same goes for every other subject, except I guess in a small way, English. Somehow in high school I did manage my way into an AP English Class... But when it came to actually taking the AP test, my teacher told me not to waste the money... I wasn't ready. So I went back to doodling... A+ doodling...
And although I liked writing and thought I was decent at it- even if I wasn't ready for some dumb test that wasn't going to do anything for me as a fashion major anyway... no one ever told me I was any good at it, so I never pursued it.
And then Miss Party Mom launched. And then suddenly I felt a desire to blog about Miss Party Mom launching. And then, and then, and then... a true writer's nightmare... something no writer wants to hear right out of the gate...
So I started this blog in February ('13) and immediately friends and family were texting me, "need an editor?" which screamed, YOU SUCK! pretty loudly... And so I just kind of owned my suckiness and figured, hey...Hannah loves it... at least I'm entertaining one person... and my mom is bound to like it, right? That's what mom's are for, to read their offspring's crappy blogs... So 2 people, not bad.
By the fourth post, a close friend of my husband's (some might call her his "best girlfriend"- which is weird, for sure... but what else am I left with? Please don't ask me if she's pretty) texted me with an urgent message. She NEEDED my blogger password, I'd used the word "peak" instead of "peek" in a blog title and I'm pretty sure it was debilitating to her as one of those "smart" people. And so I did her a favor so she could move on with her day... I gave her the password. Two days later she texted again, she'd made some "changes" to my blog. All of it. Every post. It was weird, all the words were the same but suddenly I was a grammar genius (and genius was spelled right), it was paragraphed, italicized and yet still totally me. Hmmm... I said. I didn't set out to have an editor. I mean, what kind of blogger who's been writing for a month has an editor? Oh me, that's who.
So here I am, an ex-OCD clean freak whose post-kid-bedtime ritual once consisted of getting the house spic and span and then doing the whole thing over the next morning around 10 a.m. My mom nicknamed me the "White Tornado" as a teen and I took this title seriously into adulthood to a point of where it would consume me, this clean little house. And now I have this little baby blog I'm raising up and I think... wow...here's this "voice" who's bigger and funnier than me (yet, it's me!) and all I want to do is figure out who she is why she took so long to come out and play. I want to just sit down for once in my life and do something that feeds my creativity that's NOT sewing or throwing another party- because let's be honest, you can only throw so many parties a month, but you can blog anytime you want.
A few days ago, my family ended our 10-day road trip where I was on a marathon blogging spree, and I've had something like a bunch ton (I'm rounding up) of people who I don't even know tell me what a good writer I am, and that I should pursue it. I'd say I've had TEN people tell me to write a book. And I'm like, me? Like seriously... ME? I am so NOT a writer. I mean, don't writers read? Aren't writers smart? Like really smart, not "street smart." The only reading I do is on a few choice blogs and maybe 1 book a year, besides, The Good Book.
I am so out of touch with real writers that it's not even funny- well maybe it is funny actually. People ask me if we named our son after Cormac McCarthy, the author. Sometimes I lie... just to make myself feel smart. I mean, don't all smart people name their kids after other smart people, especially writers? I've got time to change his name story, he's only 4... done... Cormac McCarthy, I'll google him...
And here I have these people in my life who are like really smart, like my brother- The English Teacher and my best friend The UCLA English Grad, and so it's conflicting... like, do I, an ex Barbie designer with no Pinterest board labeled "DIY Book Shelves" because who am I kidding, my 5 books don't need a shelf... do I really pursue this blogging thing seriously...
Let's be honest, my blog isn't ranked, I'm still no one is this blogging world. But 300 people read one of my posts! Three Hundred People. One post + 300 + Me = Mind Blown. The fact that 300 people thought that one subject I wrote about was interesting (YES it was the one about chicken fried steak, your point?) Consider me smitten with all 300 of you.
And some of you are like, 300? I get 300 hits in 30 minutes. (Oh who am I kidding, no one with 300 hits in 30 minutes is reading this blog.) But maybe one day... maybe one day a year from now, even 2 years from now... someone who's someone will stumble upon this little post and say, "Hey- that idiot can write...her AP teacher should have encouraged her more, maybe she'd be able to spell genius then." (Damn my editor, she wouldn't leave it the way I spelled it there was an O involved.)
Obviously I love doing this, or else I'd have my Swiffer out at this very moment. So thank you, if you're taking some time out to read my blog. I mean, I didn't even post any pictures in this one... maybe I AM turning in to a writer. Sa-weet.
xo Party or Die xo