I come from a family of interferers. I have married into a family of interferers. Is ‘interferers’ even a word? Well, it is now.
My mum is wonderful, don’t get me wrong. She’s the one who showed me how to hammer a credit card until it’s a limp, twisted piece of recycling – much to my husband’s distress. My mum taught me that we women can run our own businesses, have our own opinions and be totally independent. Of course, she regretted teaching me that last part once I became a teenager and my independence was at war with her need for some control. I think she is secretly training up my own daughter to be her weapon of revenge now.
But she is an interferer. If she reads this (Hi Mum!) and I am sure one day she will, she won’t be able to contain her need to comment. “You never told me about that,” she will say. “You should have done this.”
Putting words down on a paper is like tipping your head up and shaking all your most secret, stupid, random and pointless remarks out onto the page for everyone to read. Some of them are just daft. Sometimes you don’t want people to know how weird your brain is. Well – that’s how it is for me. (Have you ever wondered what is going on in the brains of people who write about serial killers or make films about gruesome ways to die? Scary!)
So mum, when you do read this, don’t comment! I write it down so I don’t have to talk about it, ok.
I have two brothers. They are both older than me, which means they see me as the idiot child of the family (See that chip, there. The one on my shoulder.) They are also interferers. They ‘know best’. They would look at my blog and tell me how to make it better.
One would take look at the statistics and ‘techie bits’, explain to me in long and complicated ways about how using Google Analytics will tell me whether someone in Kazakstan read my blog last Monday while sitting on the toilet and using their iPad. Then he would go ahead and ‘do things’ on the internet, get lots of pie charts and line charts together and show them to me. Like it or not.
I love you, bro. But I don’t want to know who reads my blog while they are having a bath. I’ll ask you, when I need to know. OK.
My dad is not much of an interferer. He just married one and then had three for children. He would just read my blog, point out the spelling mistakes and pointedly frown at any bad language. (Hi Dad. I don’t think I have sworn yet.)
Yes, I did say three. I am one too. All three of us siblings know best. It makes family gatherings really fun – well, for our partners anyway. They tend to leave us siblings to settle into our squabbling, which usually kicks off about 45 minutes after we all arrive and usually starts with my brothers ‘explaining’ to each other why their way of lighting a BBQ is the best and ends when I ‘explain’ why I don’t need to be told how to manage my life. Meanwhile our partners go off into a corner and try to ignore us, my mum plays with her grandchildren and chucks in the odd remark and my dad goes off to another room for some peace and quiet.
It’s not just my family, right?
So when I started blogging, I stayed firmly in the blogging closet. I like it in here. It’s kinda cosy, I dragged in some beanbags, put up some pictures and now it feels like home. I didn’t know where this blog lark was going to go so I didn’t see the need for the inevitable family input.
(It’s not just my family. I haven’t really told anyone I know ‘in the real world’, because I don’t want them to know how weird my brain is either, when we meet at the school gates or on the daily dog walk. I don’t feel comfortable with people commenting verbally to me on things I wrote down or taking the piss (sorry dad!). I bet there is some shrink mileage in that one!)
But . . .
As I have got to know more of my fellow bloggers out there, I want to share more of the real me.
As I build up my blog, I want to be able to use it when I (the real me) is looking for writing work.
As I keep writing and some of you keep reading and occasionally commenting, I think maybe it’s not totally mental. Maybe it’s not total drivel. Maybe some of it’s even good.
So as a step forward in my blogging and as a step forward in my own confidence, it’s time to put one (slightly hairy and very pale) leg out of the closet.
Time to bring my blog world and my real world a little bit closer together. Not too close, not too fast. Just a little.
I mentioned I have two brothers. Well, the other one is an interferer too. (Yes, you are.) But there are two advantages here. Firstly, he is totally artistic and so I can put him to work helping me improve the appearance of my blog. Secondly, I know he wouldn’t take the slightest bit of interest in actually reading anything I write. It’s not personal, I don’t think he would take the time to read a road sign if it wasn’t a necessity. Which means I can get his help without getting his commentary.
Firstly then, I’m going to get a little bit of help from Bro number 1. (Bro number 2, I will have to face the techie bits at some point, I know.)
Secondly, I’m going to introduce a bit more of the real me, to you!
So – deep breath. . . .
This is me. I am pure elegance – ladylike, styled and posed at all times . . .
Oh, no. Sorry. That was just the one day! But it was a good day.
This is me. I am adventurous and fun loving. I’d love to travel the world.
Well – that’s the me I think I am. When I am not being slightly OCD.
OK – this is the real me. Happiest when I am with my family, having fun and lots of cuddles.
Hi there! Nice to meet you.
If you are in the blogging closet, why not tell me why so I know it’s not just me!