Last weekend my husband and I, along with some fellow writers from our Lynchburg Writers Group, attended the Virginia Festival of the Book. In one of the seminars on how to promote yourself as a writer, we were encouraged to start blogging. Blogging, thinks I. Me? What does a grandmother, who is fastly careening into sixty-two--the age of social security eligibility--know about blogging? Granted I'm an old hand at emailing and instant messaging, but blogging? I've barely mastered Facebook. And what is Twitter? Isn't that the simpering and giggling old maids do when a handsome fellow compliments them? (See, now I'm showing my age; there are no old maids anymore, just women who chose to remain single. Pardon my lapse into antiquity!)
So, I've researched blogging. What is it? How to do it? How does one set it up? Frankly, in my befuddled mind, giving a manicure to an octotpus would be simpler. Still, here I am, trying, fumbling, learning. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks? Even if the dog is half blind, too chunky to run and stops for every yard sale.