Good Morning Internet Populace,
You know what caught my attention about Maggie Thrash’s blog page? Her page appeal. The first thing you see is a comment box with the words, “What did you do?” and a blank space and a button that says, “submit your confession.” Then, it’s posted. Right there underneath the confession box. Anonymous but still. The words are there. Out in the universe for the world to read. It’s calming, and scary, and awesome. It’s a way to promote her book, We Know It Was You, but it’s more than that. She practically calls you out… or me, or any other person who visits her page. She’s asking for your inner secrets. She’s asking for your private self. She’s claiming every single person has their own secrets, and she is right.
That’s bold to me. I looked at other authors on the list. Raquel Cepeda (here) and Richard Gilbert (here) were so formal. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure they are great. They even have catchy titles that almost make me want to read like Gilberts’ “Punctuation & my pig tale.” But their pages were clean and sharp and sterile. All the things I am not. All the things I shy away from for nonfiction. Both authors have books like Maggie, and layers like Maggie. But I don’t feel like I can relate to their content. Anyone remember that old saying about judging a book by its cover? Well, I’m guilty of it. But so are you. Everyone does it. Appearances matter, even if it’s only a fraction.
Maybe it’s the stage in my life. Maggie feels like she’s closer to reach, while others don’t even feel like me. Maybe when I’m older or wiser the other authors’ pages will have more of an appeal to me. Or maybe not.
I decided to share one of my own secrets on Maggie’s page. The weight may not be gone, but it’s lifted. No one will ever know what I put, but I do. I told the world today. Maybe you can tell the world something too? Go here.
“Writing is writing, and stories are stories. Perhaps the only true genres are fiction and nonfiction. And even there, who can be sure?” -Tanith Lee