Here we go. It’s carve-out-creative-space-within-infinite-online-cesspool time, or perhaps you know it as BLOG TIME! (The fictional crowd goes wild! HaaaYaaa!)
Heya! I’m your friendly resident writer-in-trying.
I welcome you to this sacred geek space and offer you a 90’s Batman inflatable lounge, or a foldable stool I found in the back of the TARDIS still encrusted with banana from the last party. Do make yourself comfortable! I’ll attempt to unearth some profound epiphany to meld the universe using only 26 letters. Perhaps I should add emojis. They’re profound, right? (If you’re not on the infinitely unstable stool, cross something for me?)
You’re still here? Then thank you for every precious minute of your day in which I’m lurking!
This *waves arms* is the wild culmination of my creative mind. Turns out, Writing Community is the epiphany. Those rolling evanescent fields of clicks and moans on #writingcommunity that occasionally formulate into a cohesive, almighty good. I grew my groove and met people—so many incredible people—and parts of myself too. Some of those talented voices gifted me with their ARCs (Advanced Reader/Reviewer Copies). I started sweating even before I agreed. That decision snowballed into here, right now.
As for the name? The Rains Report is important—not this one of course—but the actual watery-sky-fally one. Where I grew up in rural Australia, it’s so important that touching the rain gauge is forbidden. So important that I used to cut class just to call home and ask about the rain. So important that the head of boarding had to start locking his office to prevent us from cutting class to make those long distance calls. Sorry Mr. Brown.
This one isn’t that important, no need to change the locks. I’m not a life coach or expert in any field, not even hockey and I yell advice about that every Saturday. If I impart wisdomous words on here, I’m attempting to heed them.
My stay-at-home-mum days are spent searching beneath the couch for my sanity.
Even so, we’re all unique, shaped differently, laced together by anxiety and river addictions. (Just me?) No one may read this, but if they do, I hope it’s at least a little amusing once every decade. Such a high bar! (Do NOT stand on that stool. My final warning).
Time to let someone else steal your minutes.
Until next time, my hearties, be awesome. ♡