One day this week as I was frantically scanning new blogs to follow and to be followed (over on the noisy blog, not this nice peaceful quiet one where I don't pay attention to such meaningless trivia), I ran across a blog from a woman who stated she was interested in autobiographical writing. "All things autobiographical" is how I believe she put it. Unfortunately I can't give you the link to this blog, or go back there myself because in my mad, clicking rush I lost it.
I want to find it again, because I love the sentiment of "all things autobiographical." Especially in blogland where most of the enthusiasm is for YA thriller paranormal romance and tear off the bodice romance and sci fi fantastical thriller killer romance. Hey, not that I mind a bit of romance in my life and in my books, but you get my point.
"All things autobiographical" brings to mind a home, a garden, two cats, green grass, a family which may or may not be dysfunctional, meals prepared, plain and fancy dinners, daffodils and tulips making their cheery appearance each spring, grandparents visiting, weddings, funerals, addictions, celebrations, vacations, tragic losses and joyful reunions.
Now I need to go find a really good book to read that celebrates these things. Eat,Pray,Love by Elizabeth Gilbert was like that. So is Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt. So is Uncut Diamonds by Karen Jones Gowen. (hehe) I almost wish I hadn't written it. Then I could go read it. (hehe)