It may not have escaped your notice (in fact it had better not, otherwise I am coming round to your house and shouting through your letterbox), that I am presently a Blumberjack.
Like it? I'm rather proud of it as a word myself. My reasoning went this way... if someone who does a lot of stuff with logs is a lumberjack, then someone who does a lot with blogs...you see where I'm going with this? So. I find myself in the midst of a rather nice blog tour, inserting myself into other people's writings with aplomb (which isn't, as I recently found out, a fruit bomb. I was disappointed, since I sort of specialise in detonating apples and bananas at people) and otherwise rambling about my book (Please Don't Stop the Music, available for pre-order, and published by Choc Lit Publishing on 01 February)
So far I have been hosted at The Nut Press, where the squirrels were most welcoming, and a lucky person won a copy of the book (see above for details), and presently I am sitting purring amid the blog at Strictly Writing, where I am informing those kind enough to drop by about my lack of television watching habits.
There's also another chance to win a copy of THE BOOK over there, running at THIS VERY MOMENT, by telling us there about your favourite Rock Star. Now, as I pointed out, this is an anomaly, since stars most self evidently are balls of gas undergoing nuclear fusion in order to throw out heat and light. A star made of rock would be...well, not really much of a star, more of a..well, a rock.
Anyway, you'll have to pop over there yourselves to see if I made any sensible contribution to the conversation. And, as of next Saturday I shall be at LoveRomancePassion. What I shall say there is, as yet, undecided. Which is where my blumberjacking problem comes in. When visiting someone else's blog, and let us just assume here that said blog is a tidy, organised place with clean carpets and a nice sofa - and no squirrels - then is it allowed for visiting blumberjack to come in and take over the place? Dropping crisps and bits of cake all over the floor, trampling the literary version of mud through the entire wordage and leaving the seat up on the metaphorical toilet?
I like to think I am well behaved under these circumstances. But then I also like to think that I am tall, thin and have the sex appeal of Karen Gillan (without, of course, the unfortunate accent). So, my question of the moment is - how much do I try to fit in with these Other Blogs? Here, naturally, I am free to run around without my trousers on and a paper clip up my nose shouting 'What Ho, here come the badgers!' and nobody minds, because this is MY blog. Mine, do you hear me! MINE!!!!
I'm sorry. Apparently I have to go for a little lie down.