Lately, I have been telling people that I am pregnant with a magnificent literary baby. I rub my stomach, swig my beer and smile as the other person tries to wrap their brain around this radical idea of conception. Patiently I explain, this birth will take more than 9 months and will not be a vaginal delivery. Rather this sweet little baby of mine is wiggling its way up my throat. I pause here. Put down my beer, move my hand to my throat and offer in my best DJ Kool impersonation, “Ah huh ah huh ah, let me clear my throat.”
The reception of this news is varied and utterly entertaining.
On Friday night I caught up with a fellow Goddess writer friend of mine. She was delighted to hear the news and was also excited to share that her first literary baby will be delivered to the world in November at an arts festival. She suggested throwing a baby shower soiree, I was delighted to host. And so it was written.
To making up your own rules,
A Warrior Princess