Yeah, yeah, my self-esteem (especially concerning my writing) is pretty low for a self-proclaimed "narcissist," but that just makes me a walking irony, and that's much more interesting that a normal person . . . that walks.
I texted my husband the news, who then immediately responded that he was going to quit his job and become a kept man.
I hope he enjoys me "keeping" him in a cardboard box downtown, because this kind of acceptance pays in exposure, not dollars.
What makes this really great, though? The site belongs to my absolute favorite blogger EVER. I admire her humor, her courage, her honesty, her style of writing, and her superfuckingawesome mermaid hair. And her posting my little essay on clothing for the apple-shaped lady almost makes us, like, peers. (I say almost because she's super successful and pretty well-known, while I am not . . . yet. I know, check out my ego poking its head out; let's see if it sees its shadow and runs back down into it's hidey-hole. *watches* Aaaaaaand there it went. Pussy.)
I used to want to be a blogger--a humor blogger even--but I came to accept that my blog is way too "me" centered and therefore subject to my whims and a total lack of subject cohesion. I mean, yeah, there are "mommy" posts and "writing" posts, but there are also "bitching" posts and "shit no one else really cares about except me and people who want to know specifically what's going on with me" posts (also known as "boring crap" posts to some and "who fucking cares?" posts to others). I blog, but I'm not a "blogger." Splitting hairs? Maybe, but I have some pretty damn thick hair, so I'm allowed.
I really do enjoy blogging, and if an opportunity arose in which I could turn it into something more than my personal bitchfest AND still write in a manner/on a schedule that doesn't make me want to bludgeon myself with my laptop, I'd be all over that. But when it really comes down to it, I'm a fiction writer at heart. My favorite ideas are ALWAYS fictional. (Notice, I said my favorite, not my best.) I'm the nerd with the dream of ending up on one of Amazon's bestseller lists (preferably having to do with a book, but if I were to somehow invent some thingamajig that took the world by storm--or at least QVC--I wouldn't complain. And then I'd write a bestseller about my inventing it, so, win-win).
Don't worry, I use far fewer parentheses in my fiction.
But just because the piece I submitted is non-fiction doesn't mean I'm not piss my pants excited (and pretty damn proud) to be featured on the Curvygirl Guide. I also have an e-mail from Brittany (the favorite blogger with mermaid hair) that says,
"OMG I love this!"And I might have printed it out. You know, to frame and stare at when I'm convinced I can't write my way out of a paper bag.