And I Won’t Forget to Put Roses on Your Grave

I started this blog in December of 2008. I’m lousy at math, but I think that’s 13 years. My husband really tried to dissuade me from blogging. He was anxious that I would be too unfiltered, that I’d fail to respect boundaries, that I’d get in trouble. The reason he worried about these things is because he has lived with me for thirty years and he knows that I’m not happy unless I can be provocative. For a long time, I carried a can of spray paint withe me just in case. So I created some ground rules: I would never talk about any of clients, any projects that are in play, or talk trash about publishers. And for 13 years, I’ve abided by these rules and nothing bad has happened, unless you count the guy who threatened to lash me together with Patti Smith and lodge an axe in my heart. I was so young and cute when I started writing about publishing and writing. Now, I spend most of my time adding finger nails and bat wings to a boiling cauldron incanting prayers to the publishing gods. Don’t eat my children. Don’t unravel. Don’t give up. Don’t give up. Don’t give up.

How unfiltered are you?