That might not be the exact line, but the image from NOISY NORA by Rosemary Wells (I'm thinking of the original illustrations) where Nora, the little mouse jealous of her big sister and new baby brother, hiding from her parents to make them worry and come looking for her, triumphantly bursts out of her hiding place, flinging open the closet door . . . is priceless, as they say.
So, I'm back. Or backish, as I still feel a little uncertain. I became fearful that my blog was beyond hopeless. Not hot enough or commercial enough. I know what I'm up against, in the author blogosphere, and, face it, I ain't there.
Nonetheless, having been given two recent nudges, I've traipsed my way back. Maybe I just got lonely for the sound of my own words. Personal blogs are very much a me me me situation. Well, all I've got to share is me, so there you have it.
As for writerly news: well, um, a manuscript is being shopped and another one is under construction, but that's about it. Scary times in publishing, as in everywhere else, but I feel strangely okay. Not sure why, but what else is there to do but get through it, come out the other side? In a time of buildings collapsing, meteorites hitting, dinosaurs prowling . . . I exaggerate, but it does feel that way . . . in these weird times I have decided to perk up and claim my authorhood. Weird seems to suit me.
"I'm back!" said Fusty, with a monumental splat. We'll see . . .