Let me just say now, I can't cook worth a darn. Don't WANT to cook worth a darn (because, um, that would mean I'd HAVE to cook). Say the word ranch, and I break out in a heat rash. And the term "Marlboro Man" gives me the heebie jeebies. For the longest time, I have to admit it -- great writer, fantastic photog, but I didn't get what all the fuss was about.
BUT I just finished reading the kid Ree's first children's book, Charlie the Ranch Dog, and I've finally figured it out. She's good.
Daaaaamn she's good. She wrote a book that's cute enough for kids to beg for a basset hound, clever enough for adults not to fall asleep, and the kicker is, she found time to actually, um, do it? I mean that's the point of blogging, to get there, but who has TIME y'all?
I think most of us bloggers have one of those books bouncing around in our pea brains. No? OK, I have for years. It's about . . . wait, nevermind. Email me if you're an agent, and then maybe I'll spill. Let's just say it's as cute as Charlie but a tad more active. But it's there. I swear. Cute. Clever. Not exactly Go the F**K to Sleep level of satire, but funny. And it doesn't require cooking or wrangling cattle to do the press work. No sirree.
But writing it takes time. Which, at the moment, is taken up by working, eating, and stealing five seconds to actual read to my kid. Oh, and writing not-love-letters to uber bloggers. But that's just practice for the big time, right? I can totally write this off as getting there. Almost.
Who is your current idol?
Image via Amazon
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