Miscellaneous Maundrings

While it may seem perfectly natural for writers to long for a blog of their own, where they can express their thoughts, both deep and shallow, it did not seem at all natural for me to have a blog. I don't spend a lot of time reading blogs, so why would anyone want to spend time reading mine?

And, besides, what would I say? How could I keep random strangers entertained week after week?

But I have finally dragged myself, kicking and screaming (well, there was very little screaming, but I did give myself some rather harsh words) into a blog.

Why Manic Reclusive, you may ask? It would be a very good question, after all. It really all started in August of 2010, when I sat in the lobby of the hotel where NASFIC was about to begin. My husband and I and a couple of friends were waiting for other people we may know to appear, especially Eric Flint. He is the publisher of the magazine that has previously bought pieces from myself and my husband Kevin. We were on the NASFIC program as participants in the mini-con. Kevin had a panel on Steam power, and mine was on Chocolate, with samples.

As we were waiting, a very pleasant man approached me with hundreds of un-inflated balloons  hanging from all the pockets of his white lab coat. He asked me if I wanted a hat made from balloons. I politely assented to his request, and he proceeded to inflate balloons with a hand pump, and tie them together. Then he suddenly placed the hat on my head before I had a chance to assess the situation. Then he was gone, and there I was, shy and retiring Karen Evans, sitting in the main lobby of a busy hotel, wearing a balloon hat. It was four feet above my head, and was beyond the boundaries of ridiculous.

The balloons were brown, for the chocolate, and it had a red heart on the top for chocolate lover.

I kept the hat on for most of the rest of the day. I was informed that the hat would not be allowed on my panel with me, but all of a sudden, I was reveling in the brazen status of an exibitionist. I made the most of the attention that my wonderful balloon hat brought. I was no longer a frightened reclusive, I was a maniacal show-off.

That was when I realized that I really am Manic Reclusive. I swing from the need to be almost invisible in the back or to the far side of a room, to a blatant attempt to become the center of attention.

Needless to say, many people who attended NASFIC will remember me for the balloon hat alone.