It must be wonderful to see yourself on the featured blog post of Red Room. How affirming is that? Your name up in lights and all the others members dying to click on your name and read those insightful and meaningful words that got you there in the first place! God, I dream of it. Each day upon waking, I check to see who made it, who actually was deemed better than the others to reach that pinnacle. Alas, it is never yours truly. I am just a small fry. Writing away in a burgundy painted room in the West of Ireland where really nobody gives a toss about. When my kids ask me did I write today, I hesitate. I am fearful of my response. If I admit that I did they might ask me what it was about. What did you write Mom, they might ask. At this point I will struggle, I will wrangle with my innermost thougts, I will try to distract them by pointing to the freshly powdered Brownies basking on the counter top. I will tell them the refrigerator has been restocked, the stack of dazzling white socks just for them. I will avoid at all costs their query into my sacred private world. Writing is such a struggle. The entanglement of words and thoughts a constant battle. The expectations from distant friends immense. Take supermarket encounters, Are you still writing can be a typical question. I want to respond with: well yes, blogging, but I fear that it may sound weak and so ask a petty question in return like that's a nice necklace youré wearing or raise my voice rather alarmingly by stating: the lamb chops are on special offer, have you noticed? The typical dinner party question can be from an inebriated neighbour falling over her pasta and prawns:I never got to see your play, what's it about? Kindly spouse question: so did you take time to write today? Stranger on street, so what do YOU do? Book store encounter, haven't seen you at a reading lately, are you still writing? Parking lot middle aged woman at pay station, heard you on the radio, o three months ago, loved it, what you doing now? The never ending guilt trip wears you down, the featured blog, hey even the popular blog appears more out of your reach than ever before. You cry into your porridge, you cringe at the word ''writing'' and yet you keep on going, like an astronaut lost in space, always looking, floating around, trying to find your way home.