So, I tried to add a blog post, but somehow added the generic sample blog, I hope you've all enjoyed reading it. And this is pretty funny to me because I am, after all, a writer. Leave it to me to screw up the writing end of things, but I think we're all back on the same page here now, and I can at least introduce you to me. I am mostly a writer, who wishes she were a better singer, but tries damn hard, and isn't that what really counts?
No?
Well, with geniuses like the ones playing on all of my tracks, maybe I can hide amongst them and not get found out too quickly. Seriously, though, my bestie, Juliann Kuchocki generously shared all of her amazing contacts with me so that I could get some of my songs out there until, hopefully, the singers I've written them for (in my head) can sing them someday (are you listening, Jann Arden?) So, to dispel the myth that the only thing I can write is Christmas, I will assure you that there are at least six albums worth of music on its way, currently in production at Canterbury, and that Julian and Jeremy are probably getting a little tired of me by now, although they are very kind. Long Covid has made this a little tricky, gulping breaths of oxygen in between verses from my little wheeled friend, but I'm almost completely off of it now, and I can't even say what a relief it is to finally have a single out and not look like an octogenarian when out and about. Even if it is two years after the first, and once again, a Christmas tune. More of a winter's lullaby, really. And finally, I seem to have figured out the back-end of this website, so I can add my blog and bore you all with the inner-workings of a possibly OCD mind. That's good, though, because up until now all you've heard is Christmas music from me. Trust me, there is so much more to come. And, I'm afraid, once you hear just what a melancholy baby I really am, you'll wonder how in hell I could ever be funny. But I am. (really). I crack my sisters up frequently, sharing my little essays on 'Fun with Trees' and 'My Private Hell' (insert Polka Music and an intense fear of Dad rear-ending an ambulance here). Most of my best stories will have to wait until I either publish anonymously, or until everyone who could possibly be pissed is senile. So for now, you'll get the tamer blogs and the musical side of me, and, BTW, is it okay to swear like a Newfie here? One of my other besties is light-years away in Labrador, and I really feel the need to honor her sometimes. ;) Her Poppy actually crowned me an honorary Newfie when he heard me swear once after I slammed my hand in a drawer while cooking him dinner, but I don't think it counted because while there was some (purely medicinal) Screech involved, sadly there was no fish to kiss. But back to my writing schisms. I think the problem is that it's really easy to compartmentalize. You get into a groove, and when I say melancholy, I have actually had to make a concerted effort to write some happy songs to intersperse amongst the heart-wrenching drama so that my album won't require a Prozak prescription. And my text-musings should come with a box of Poise pads, and have actually been read aloud (dramatically) at my sister's home as a part of their family Christmas tradition. I'll include one of the tamer ones in my next blog post, but I must warn you. There will be cursing.
