Confession

Ah, that got your atttention, didn't it? You're reading quickly, wondering what sort of sordid details I'm going to divulge, aren't you? I wonder...are you hoping I've got a terrible, ugly secret to confess? Or are you fearful that's exactly the case? Hmm...

I hope I don't disappoint, but actually, my confession is quite tame. Okay, I'm taking a deep, steadying breath. Here goes, the big unveil...

I read blogs. Really, I do. I know that probably seems silly given the fact that you're doing exactly the same thing right this very minute, but for me it's a guilty little pleasure I indulge in when I should be working. Yep, I'm slacking off while I peruse author blogs in the dead of night. Or the early morning hours--do they count as "nocturnal deadness"? And really, what exactly is the "dead" of night, anyway? Does anyone know?

OH! Oops! One of those tangent moments again...

Sorry.

Back to my confession. Typically, I rise early and work. Recently, though, I've been squeezing in a chunk of time nearly every morning to read author's blogs. Debbie Macomber, Alison Kent, a bunch of others. They're interesting. They're often funny. And I'm addicted, I think. I love reading about what they're doing. New releases, reviews, works in progress. Ordinary stuff, too. Photos of grandbabies, tales of sick dogs, baseball games watched and hot dogs eaten. Really, those are recent posts I've read--and loved.

I don't know if I'll be able to quell this recent addiction. The lure of peeking into others' lives is too great. Too entertaining. Too much a wonderful reminder that even gifted writers like Debbie Macomber and Alison Kent do "normal" things like the rest of us.

Hmm..I wonder if either of them has a good recipe for zucchini bread? God knows we're overrun by them. Maybe Stephen King's got one...he looks like he'd be a kitchen whiz...