Tag Archives: Libby Hall the Tiny Terror

Time Flies And All That Jazz

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IMG_20191113_135133422As I’m writing this, Libs (The Tiny Terror) is shivering in her…er, paws. Oh, she’ll throw out a little bark every once in a while, but mostly, she’s just cowering behind me. Because the Carpet Cleaner Guy is at the house!!!

Yeah, the Carpet Cleaner Guy. When I called him, I asked, “When did I get the carpets cleaned? Last November? Or was it September?” And there was this awkward little pause.

“Mrs. Hall,” he said. “It was three years ago.”

Which just goes to show that one minute, you’re thinking how nice and clean your house smells, and the next minute, it’s November (and you’re wondering why your house smells). Such is time flying and all that jazz. And that brings us to my blog post over at the Muffin today: NaNoWriMo: Are We Done Yet?

Because for cryin’ out loud, y’all, can it possibly be nearly the middle of November? If you’re toiling away at the National Novel Writing Month writing challenge–and lagging behind–then you’re going to want to read that post. But if you’re like me, skipping NaNoWriMo but just getting around to getting carpets cleaned after three years, then you might want to check your fridge.

Me and Libs both are scared of that.

 

Becoming Real

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IMG_20181107_103920387_BURST000_COVERSo in between the constant robo-calls and the ceiling cracks and the flooding on the floor AND the non-stop barking because ringing phones and working folks in the house call for non-stop Libs patrol, I have managed to come up with something over at the Muffin.

And considering that as I’m typing this post, Libs is cowered behind me, in my office chair, because the YARD MAN IS HERE WITH TOOLS OF DESTRUCTION (leaf blower at the moment), it’s kinda amazing.

Um…just to be clear, the blog post itself is not that amazing. It’s just me, speaking my truth in “This I Know 2.0.” But after I read it this morning, I realized that I’d left out something very important that I know. Which is not too surprising, all things considered (see above).

And so I’m glad I have this spot here to add another truth, to share this I know as well:

That writers appreciate their readers. Not because they need reviews or want people to buy their books, though of course, either of those are nice. And not even because of lovely comments or the occasional thank-you note or email, though those are certainly swell, too. But mostly, writers appreciate readers because…well, I guess it’s sort of like this quote from The Velveteen Rabbit:

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

Readers give writers validation. Readers make us real. And so thank you to all the readers who make me a real writer. Even when my efforts are less than stellar due to extenuating circumstances (see above).