Why 8.0? This is my eight hundredth post. 800! And since I was
never a fan of moving the decimal, or any math for that matter, I’m sticking
with 8.0. Eight is my favorite number anyway.
What comes with the 8.0 version of me?
Honesty.
I had no idea what to blog about today. I had a major brain
block and for those of you who know me that was no small thing. It rattled me
and challenged me to debate if maybe my days of making thoughts move are over.
See, unlike decimal points, inspiring you to think is where I’ve found my
groove. Those in the publishing industry might dub it something like a brand.
Call it whatever you want, but it’s what I love to do. In my novels. On this
blog. Even during conversations. (Probably why I’m infatuated with book clubs.)
Thousands of ideas surge through my head throughout the day.
I even think in tweets sometimes (I know, scary). But I have to admit, these
years of bravely going public as a writer have resulted in a bit of a trippy experience.
What to share? What not to share?
Let me explain…in this day and age when people post every stinking
photo and status update, documenting their lives in second by second play-by-plays,
I get a little freaked out. I begin to wonder if we all start to naively
believe we know someone when we’re
only sampling one version of that person.
Those makeup tutorials about how to put on concealer on
Pinterest have a tendency to weird me out. We’ve all gotten so good at covering
up, at photographing our best side, at crafting a tweet-worthy response. My gut
tells me it’s only going to get more and more difficult to discern what’s real
and what’s not. The natural versus the programmed, rehearsed, and orchestrated.
I’ve made a commitment to be candid here on this blog. But
I’ve had so much go on behind the scenes I haven’t opened up about. On purpose.
Not because I’m trying to present this Pollyanna falsification of myself, but
because life has reminded me in some rather cruel and startling ways how people
don’t always have my best interests at heart. There are so many folks online
who’ve become like vultures with their opinions, feeding on the risks and
failures of others. I share a lot, but I hold a lot back, too. I’ve found
that’s what works best for me—helps me to keep my balance and perspective when
it’s time for reviews to role in.
So, now to address what this new Wendy 8.0 version will be…
Me, candid…uncensored. It won’t be me trying to check the
boxes of what some publishing house is looking for or even what I think my readers
need to know (because I’m not a mind reader).
8.0 is going to be the stirrings of my heart, the quiet promptings impossible to ignore. Soul whispers.
I miss Sincerity online lately.
So, I’m bringing her back. Except she has my name. She takes
a horrible selfie. She doesn’t follow fads. She cries after reading books like Eleanor & Park. Her heart breaks for
family members. Her fury ignites whenever anyone threatens harm against her
kids. Forgiveness and grace bleed throughout her entire being—but she wrestles
them frequently. She gets pissed. She gets tired. She gets lonely in a crowded
room. She’s infected with a passion for writing and stung with compassion
whenever she sees a crying woman. She loves.
And she’s now going to stop talking about herself in the
third person.
8.0 out.
