I was on Facebook other night, looking at the profiles of the many awesome people I've been lucky enough to befriend through Girlbomb. Many of them have struggled with some of the same issues I dealt with -- crazy moms, running away, institutionalization, sleeping around, bad habits, terrible relationships, depression, and self-harm. Wanting to be a writer, wanting to be a good person, wanting to really live life, and not knowing how. Issues I still struggle with today.
I am so grateful to have these friends and correspondents and readers, people who have been so honest and empathetic with me, and I don't think I show my gratitude -- I know I don't show it, because I rarely write anything for public consumption these days. I spend all day working on novels, memoirs, and journal entries, and I rarely feel comfortable sharing it, which saddens me. I have the most supportive and encouraging audience, and what I really want to do is to write for you.
I'd also really love it if you started writing for each other. I'm thinking about revamping this website over the next few weeks, calling it Girlbomb, and inviting contributions from the many amazing writer/readers/commenters who have reached out about the book -- submissions and suggestions are most welcome.
In the meantime, I'm going to remember who I started writing for -- not just myself, but for the other girl bombs, the young women (and the older ones, and even the men ones, too) on the verge of exploding. The incendiary ones, the ones about to burst into brilliant light and sound; the girls I lived with at the shelters and group homes and the women they've become. The outcasts, the addicted, the marginalized, the lonely, and those who've overcome it, those who've lived through it, and found a home inside their own skins.
I'd forgotten that this blog isn't for me. It's for you. Tell me what you want to hear, and -- more importantly -- what you want to say.