A blog beginner...

So, this blog thing is new for me. Very new. I mean, not even just writing a blog but reading them. Okay, if you must know it was about two weeks when my sister said, "Danielle, you HAVE to do a blog on your site."
"Huh?" was my intelligent response.
"A blog."
I respond with a vacant stare.
My sister's mouth drops. "A web log?"
"What's that?"
"My God. Where have you BEEN?"
I blink a few times and think. Changing diapers, grocery shopping, trying to write a book. I don't think these are the answers she's looking for.
"It's like a diary," she continues.
I nod. I remember those. I even used to keep one.
"But you post it on the web."
Now it's my turn to look wide-eyed and drop my mouth open. "You post a diary on the web? No way. Next you'll say you think I should post pictures of me from the eighth grade."
She laughs. (She remembers those pictures.) "It's not like that. It's thoughts on writing and life and things that interest you."

I can feel my brow furrow as I consider what this blog of mine might look like. My thoughts on the cute skirt I saw but told myself I'd never wear since the last time I wore a skirt was before Clinton was with Monica. Or, the lipstick I bought and left in the car when it was 101 degrees last week and how the seat is sort of pink now. As are the shorts I was wearing that day...and the next.

Perhaps I'd write about the conversation I had with my daughter about why you can't keep a grasshopper in a jar for three days and expect it to survive. And my reaction when she responds, "That's okay, Mommy. It died and I let it go." Hmmm. I could write about the way I hit the middle of my latest book and started to pull my hair out because I thought for sure it was going to be 100 pages too short and then how I discovered (in my sleep, no less) where the plot needed to go next and then realized it would be 300 pages too long. I look back over the list of things I'm thinking and shrug. Maybe I can do this. Maybe a blog is a good idea. Maybe you can tell me. So I'll try it and if I'm boring you to tears, you can tell me and I'll go back to keeping the random thoughts to myself.



Here goes:



I have to start this first blog (this is the official start--that earlier stuff didn't count) with some comments on the new site. As you can see, the website has a whole new look, thanks mostly to three people: an incredibly talented photographer named Audrey Hall (www.audreyhall.com and a superb graphic artist named Ixtla Vaughan (www.getidesign.com). They have reinvented me. Well, they've reinvented the site although I think this reinventing thing is kind of nice. Maybe someone could reinvent my house--make it a bit bigger, remove some of the magic marker stains on my couches--in fact, they'd be welcome to remove the couches all together if they'd bring me something more chic and cool...and also stain resistant, of course.

They would repaint the walls some cool, sophisticated colors and buy all new dishes because the ones I have are more than a decade old. And maybe they could get some more teaspoons. How come I have a full set of 12 forks but only 6 teaspoons? I have wondered if this is from the phase my son went through when we first got him to clear his plate from the dinner table and he assumed that meant into the garbage can.

And while we're at this reinventing, I could use a new wardrobe (but no skirts) and perhaps a fun new car. Something small and red and sporty--a two-seater convertible. Of course, I would have to be able to change into something big enough for carseats with the touch of a button. Wow. That sounds perfect. I bet a car like that would do well. The perfect mom car--something that lets us be feminine and carefree for those twenty minutes a day when we're actually alone without little ones.

I am not complaining, mind you. At this very moment, I am sitting in my office. Rich wood walls on one side, a cool shade of taupe (that I didn't choose but love) and wood wainscoating on two walls. Behind my desk, a bookcase stretches the whole wall, packed with my favorites: Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird and Robert McKee's Story and The Physicians Desk Reference and Gray's Anatomy. Doesn't everyone have these in their library? Plus, the books I'm halfway through: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathon Safran Foer, which is such fun, and the one I just finished: Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, which is truly fascinating. And dozens of others I've loved and my favorite suspense authors Michael Connelly and John Connolly and Lisa Gardner and Lee Child and Jeff Abbott and Harlan Coben and Jonathon King and I could go on and on and on.

The walls are covered with art that my siblings did, with photographs of family and friends. And the book covers are there, too, off to one side to remind me that I can do this--this writing thing. A fan whispers gently in the corner and Richard Buckner's BLOOMED plays softly.

Every once in a while, someone walks by heading to another office and I get a little glimpse through the open door. I love those little tiny tastes of the outside, that moment of company, a smile or even a frown that remind me that though I work alone, the world I'm writing about and writing for is right there, just outside the door...