I'm a writer. If three scenes of something called Icicle Man and however many parts of Murphy and Me we're up to at the moment hadn't clued you in, you've been living under a rock for about a year and a half. Or maybe just the half. Either way, it's pretty damn evident that I like to write fiction, and I think (hopefully without sounding arrogant) that I write well.
But that's not all that I am.
I am also a sister, a daughter, an aunt, an international, a woman (or young lady, or, hell, some days I'm still a kid at heart), a coffee lover, a tea snob, a traveler, a blogger, and a member of the world at large. I was also a soccer player, too, and still am an avid follower of sports. I'm into theater, too. I like musicals. There's more to me than just being a writer.
I bet there's more to you, too.
Now, don't get me wrong, it's your blog, and I'm not going to tell you what to put on it or in it or whatnot, because I wouldn't want someone to try and do that to me. I'd probably snark at them. We all start blogs for different reasons. And I have nothing against book reviews and blogs that help you become a better writer. I think that's great. My writing's not perfect (probably nowhere near, truthfully) and sometimes it's really helpful to have a place that you look to for answers, other than the ones you might pull off the internet or out of textbook. It's nice. It's like leaving a question in the comment box and then checking back later to find that someone actually answered you instead of letting you wallow in your own confusion.
The only thing that doesn't make sense to me is that, well, most of you - and I'm going to stick to being as general as I can because I know what it's like to be singled out unawares - are teenagers. And, if I remember back to a time not too long ago, I was one, too. There were some pretty interesting things happening in my life at the time. I was in high school, going through classes and generally thinking that I hated AP, ACE, and anything that had to do with the prospect of graduating by a certain number. I was also trying to query my first manuscript, the thing I've been working on (and am closer to finishing, but haven't gotten there yet, damn it) for six years.
Namely, there was a whole 'nother level of me ready and waiting to have a spin at the wheel. Granted, I didn't start blogging seriously (though, if you can call some of my posts serious, I'll send you some truffles) until the tail end of my first year of college. Mostly because it was something fun and mostly because, well, I see the world a little differently. Not just because I'm a different person than you, but because, well, I have this theory that if you stripped away the superficial stuff, you'd find that a lot of the real world problems are my problems, too. Just worded differently, if you will. With a different set of consequences.
That and I needed an outlet to generally rant about life when it got to be a little too much, and I don't surgarcoat things. Someone once upon a time called that refreshing.
I think what I'm trying to say is that no matter how interesting the book you're reviewing is, the person behind the blog is probably far more interesting than any made up character could be. Mostly because someone has to make them up. It takes a certain amount of courage (stupidity, too, in some cases) to blog about yourself to the general internet, and it looks really scary. It's like life, though. People are nice, and people would also just as soon add insult to injury, if they could.
We've seen one side of what you are, maybe let us see another side. A different side. The side that says, bring it on, world. I'm ready. Even, well, when you're not ready. But that's half the fun, really. And that's how you grow in more ways than one.