In the beginning, I attempted to write book reviews. That didn't last long. I just wasn't that interested in giving a comprehensive look at any book. There are a bunch of places that do that really well. School Library Journal,Kirkus, Booklist....the list goes on. They will tell you everything you need to know.
I will tell you everything you don't need to know.
I started calling them book reviews and now I've demoted them to "book chats". I'm considering calling them book musings or book ramblings. I don't know.
I have been writing Ramona and Her Mother since July 2009. About 7 months. I've come to realize that I am always slightly off my topic. Just by a bit. I write about my daughter, Buddhism and librarianship, but never directly, never head on. You, dear reader, rarely get a decent book review. You rarely get a good baby picture. What you get is my heart. You get the light and dark of me. The room of my own.
Last year, a friend asked me if I had a secret dream. I did. I told him that I had always wanted to write and I thought I would really enjoy writing a blog. He pointed out that writing a blog didn't really need to be a secret dream. Doesn't everyone write a blog? It's funny that I began writing when I had no time to spare. The thing about time is that it isn't. (Right?)
If you are an old friend, reading and constantly scratching your head about what has become of Nova, thank you for reading and never asking me what the hell is going on. If you are my mother or a certain dear friend, and worry that I'm putting too much out there, thank you for always retracting your statements. If you are one of the bloggy girlfriends (as Maezen puts it) out there in the world, thank you for adding me to your daily list of things to run your eyes over. Thank you readers, readers everywhere.