Blogging, huh?

I started this process because a member of my writer's group asked me "Where's your blog?"

Blog? What blog? Why do I want a blog?

"Everyone has a blog," he said. “You have to have a blog if you want to be a serious writer.”

So, ok, here I am. Now what do I say?

"Oh, pick me! Pick me!" The imaginary cowboy who lives in my head dances around, jumping up and down, hand in the air.

"Not now, Reese. I'm busy." Now, what am I going to write about? I drum my fingers on the desktop as I cock my head sideways and stare out the window.

Tap, tap, tap Reese taps on the inside of my skull. "Hello out there. I know you're there. Let me out. Let me tell them the story about Edwards."

"Reese, go away. It's not time to talk about Edwards. We have to finish Prey first."

"I'm sick of Prey. That woman gets all the attention. I want to tell my story."

"Reese, please. I'm trying to work here." I resume staring into space. Hmmm, maybe I could blog about small town USA. I’m sure I can come up with plenty of fun stuff there. Or maybe my EMT class. That would be a good one. Lots of interesting things happen in class and on the ambulance. Gotta watch out for that HIPAA law, though.

Bam, bam, bam “Hello-o-o. Remember me?” Reese kicks the inside of my skull. “I’m telling you. They want to read about me.”

“They can read about you in Prey.”

“Yeah, if you ever finish it.” Reese mutters.

“What did you say?” Reese is really starting to get on my nerves. Can’t he see I’m busy here?

“Nothing. Nothing at all. But don’t your readers want to know why I killed Edwards? Or do you think they would rather hear about the way I grew up with my great-grandfather having Vision Quests and going to the sweat lodge?”

“Reese, shut up. You’re distracting me. A blog is serious business and I have to figure out what to say.” I’m getting a headache. Maybe a cookie will help.