Let me start by telling you a little about my childhood. My mother was, amongst other things, a writer. I would spend hours poring over her scrapbook with clippings of all the pieces she’d written for various magazines, voraciously lapping up her success and revelling in it. I’d stare at her byline under the picture of The Most Beautiful Woman In The Whole World and I couldn’t believe that this talented writer – who was published – was my mother.
As I grew up, I watched as my mother tore up rule books and wrote two books and a slew of TV series. Never mind that she was an ex-school teacher who was now a stay at home mom. I couldn’t have kept count of the times I heard her say “Where is the rule book that says I can’t do (insert giant, insane feat here)?” and then watch the world stare, open-mouthed, as she succeeded wildly in her crazy ventures.
You see, my mother was an adventurer. She didn’t ask the world for permission to be fabulous. She went out and granted her own permission slips with wild abandon. She dived head first into her passions and often landed spread-eagled, face-first, skirt over head. Did she cry? No, sirree. My mom laughed.
She taught me that no bird ever learned to fly by hiding in its nest. She taught me that passion is the most potent of all fuels. She taught me that I would most certainly fail a lot and that failure is fabulous because where failure once stood, there is now a stepping stone to a better place. She taught me that if I fuel my attempts at anything with passion, while I may fail, I’d fail spectacularly. She taught me to laugh, and the world would laugh with me. She taught me that if I boldly ask for what I want, I just might get it. (I did this just a couple of years ago and got a personal letter from the Queen of England, but that’s a story for another day.)
Why am I telling you about my mother, you ask? As you can well imagine, my mother’s writing success formed the buds from which my own aspirations grew. I, too, wanted to see my name and picture next to a piece I’d written, published somewhere important. I’ve written for as long as I can remember. By profession, I’m a Copywriter (I can sell ice to Eskimos in the most compelling way) but that didn’t ever really feed the creative hunger. In my spare time, I began to write children’s books, books which are sitting on my computer, waiting to be thrust into bookstores world wide, as I catapult with G-force to stardom. Still, publishing is a tricky deal, so I began this blog to bridge the gap. Still, the hunger for validation has continued to gnaw at me.
Until one day, I received an email from Bonbon Break – an online magazine I’d been reading and aspiring to one day write for. The email was from Val Curtis, Editor-in-chief (read: Big Important Person), asking if I’d be interested in writing for her. After screeching like a schoolgirl and running around the house dancing (Gangnam Style), I calmly and professionally replied that I would most definitely be interested. (Yes! Yes! Yes!)
Fast forward a year to July 2013, when I jetted off to America for the Blogher ’13 Conference. I met with Val at registration and it was (cue angels singing in chorus) love at first sight. We laughed, we talked (boy, did we talk) and we collaborated. We also connected with some other truly talented women and seeds were planted.
You have been so patient, so now I will tell you the gargantuan, massive, Yeti-sized news:
As of now, I am Editor at Bonbon Break! (As Editor, it would be unacceptable to use more than once exclamation mark, but please read this as a forty-five exclamation mark statement.)
Bonbon Break has been relaunched and it is absolutely beautiful – an oasis to visit when you need a break. When you see which other bloggers are on the Bonbon Break team, you’ll want to go over there immediately, I assure you.
Without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to the new Bonbon Break team (a collection of some of the biggest talent in the blogosphere):
I have only one thing left to say: