As I was fishing underwear from my washing machine the other morning, I experienced a mild case of panic. Like Lewis Carroll's White Rabbit I found myself muttering, "I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date!" In the run up to my book being published next month I seem to be saying that a lot lately. The thing is, I've imposed all sort of deadlines on myself: get this done, get that done; start this, finish that. So many demands on my time and so few hours in which to accomplish all I've set myself to do.

Phew! It's exhausting, especially when some of those tasks are mundane things like doing the laundry. Now that kind of stuff really tires me out - because I'll let you into a secret, a domestic goddess I am not. I am, however, a writer, and a writer needs a blog. Or so I've been told by several of my fellow scribblers over the years. Often. And yet I've resisted. The thing is, although I can happily work away at 90,000 word novel - through several drafts - the thought of maintaining a blog freaks me out. I mean - what do I have to write about, and, assuming I can find something to say, who'd want to read it? But to turn a phrase, 'faint novelist never won fair reader'. And so, as I untangled a heap of damp boxers and knickers, I decided to quieten my inner critic (not to mention that darned White Rabbit!), and get that blog on the go. 

 And here it is - my very first blog post. Hurrah! Unfurl the flags - I've finally taken the bloggerly plunge! 

About time too, I hear my friends say. I imagine they might even break out the fizz. Ah get over yourself, says you; you're only doing what thousands, if not millons, of people have done before you - and they're probably doing it much better than you ever will.  I have two answers to that. One is you don't know my friends - any excuse for a glass or two of the bubbly stuff, eh Sarah B? And two is that although my blog writing might be never measure up to anyone else's - might even be pants - at least I've made a start.

And that, dear reader, in my book, is worthy of a wee celebration. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to open a bottle of Scotland's finest...sparkling water! Cheerio until next time.