"Can't Buy Me Love"

The Price You Pay, by Bruce Sprinsteen:

You make up your mind, you choose the chance you take
You ride to where the highway ends and the desert breaks
Out on to an open road you ride until the day
You learn to sleep at night with the price you pay



“Blog”, I like the word. When I say I “have a blog” it makes me think I own some rare priceless artifact. While there are millions out there, each one is so personal and unique. They require a great deal of maintenance. Yesterday someone asked me “What does that mean, when someone says they have a blog? Is it a diary or journal someone puts on the internet for other people to read?” Well, it can be. Or it can be a place where families hook up to see recent photos and learn about what is going on in each others lives. For me it is neither. I am just looking for a way to share my words. I write all the time but I don’t want to be bothered with query letters, researching markets, getting rejected or even worse, revisions. The freedom of being able to write whatever and whenever I want without thinking of trying to sell any of these words most likely means no one other than my husband (and on a rare occasion another friend or relative) is going to read all this. That is the price I pay for my refusal to try and actually earn money as a writer. I don’t want to work. I want to write. I always tell people I plan on handing over all my journals and writings to my kids so they can bring it into therapy when they get older and need to figure out how they ended up needing therapy (It is always the mother’s fault, right?). But the truth is, I love writing. It is that simple.

So the Price I pay is “not getting paid.” If you happen upon this Blog site, and take the time to read more than one entry, thank you, from the bottom of my penniless but endless pen/computer.