That I have a blog will be a secret.
Shh. Serriously, Shhh.
I am a published writer who still thinks self publishing is a bad idea. Blogs are the epitome of self publishing and are thus, a bad idea. Therefore I will not be posting anything here but pure tripe.
If you are unfortunate enough to find yourself reading my tripe, don’t expect an apology. You’re reading a blog, therefore you are fully expecting to be reading someone’s self-aggrandizing tripe. You just happen to be reading mine.
So why start a blog if I think so poorly of them?
Sometimes I just have something to say, and no one to say it to. Since no one is the precise number of people I expect to actually find and read this, it seems perfect.
What I have to say will generally fall into three categories:
1) Rancid Tripe. I write a lot of stories. Less than one in ten are worthy of selling to a paying market (That’s fancy talk for getting published professionally). The absolute worst of them, those that would be a waste of paper to print on the backside of used hamburger wrapper, might find their way here. This will be the smallest category of things I post here and not because so little of my writing is tripe, but because so little of my writing is such rancid tripe.
2) Tripe, otherwise known as my opinions on things. This is truly where the self-aggrandizing comes in. I’m smarter than you and you would be enlightened to read everything I think. Only, I’m a little lazy so I won’t post everything I think. Really, you’re still reading this? That validates the point of the third sentance in this bullet, doesn’t it?
3) What I’m doing. I’ve posted six times to facebook in the two or three years I’ve been on Facebook. That’s either because my life is terribly boring or not the kind of exciting I’d post on Facebook with my mother and my kids as friends. Since this blog is my dirty little secret…Shh…I can talk more freely here.