I feel like I should type this post while drinking champagne as some Ride of the Valkyries-type classical music plays in the background. Instead it's all coffee and whatever is playing on the random setting on my iAudio (Placebo, maybe? Whatever it is more suited to a Philip K. Dick moment of technical breakdown, instead of a personal revelation).
It all feels rather anticlimactic, really.
Apologies for the Ryan Seacrest delay, but I thought y'all should have some background first. (You can amuse yourself by guessing at my first name before finding out below if you are right.) I worked for a corporate book chain for seven years at two different locations in Oregon: three-ish years as a part-time bookseller while in college and four as a full-time/some sort of management position after college. Despite my love of books, I didn't plan on continuing my life as a bookseller after college, but fell back into it when I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Up until my Junior year of college I thought I would be a doctor and took all the prerequisite classes to do so, but after a year of Organic Chemistry kicking my butt and the realization that med students don't sleep, I had to rethink this plan.
You see, I'm rather attached to sleep and need several hours of it to function.
So while rethinking I still got a degree in Biology (as it was a damn good, and well-rounded, degree); moved to town with the Druggie, a friend from college who was going on to study Pharmacy; started looking up writing/publishing classes at the local university; and called up my old boss to see if she had any hours for me. She didn't, but the store in town did.
"Cool beans," I thought, "I can work and take classes form the local U."
Ha! Ha hahaha. The whole work and class taking didn't mix so well, seeing as how if I wanted to take classes I couldn't really support myself and if I wanted to work, classes were at the wrong times unless I worked a split shift. Before I gave in to the inevitable need to support my lifestyle I did manage to take classes in editing, layout/design, and marketing, which I hope the publishing institute will help me build upon...if I get in that is.
In 2005, I hit a period where I had a lot of bookseller stories, stories that my friends really seemed to enjoy, but I could never remember who I told. For the sake of avoiding repetition and to keep my brain active by writing everyday I started this blog. Now my friends all over the country could be amused and I had an "anonymous" space to bitch about customers and corporate if I so desired.
(The downside to this plan is now my friends will bring up stuff that I talk about in this blog without preferencing with "so that blog post on..." and expect me to make the connection. This has resulted in a lot of blank stares on my part.)
The choice to be anonymous may have started to allow me to get my bitch on, but it remained in place as the blog evolved more and more into an information zone because I was writing in the field in which I worked. Personally I would like to think that my company would have liked and benefited from my blog--although I was never big enough that I thought they would take notice--but I didn't want to take the chance.
All of which I've covered already and yet here I go, blah, blah, blah. Enough already and make with the payoff!
Who knew 22 years after this picture was taken I would be unveiling myself as a book blogger. Considering the bag I'm holding there was obviously some foreshadowing.
Hi, my name is Linsey*, and I'm a bookaholic. It's been twelve hours since I last turned a page. I'm not a Chloe--although I know one as well as a Zoe--but I was almost a Bronwyn or a Sydney. I'm pretty happy that Linsey won out in the name debate, even if my father's phonetic spelling has resulted in years of me informing everyone from doctors to teachers to employers, "There's no D. Yes, really. Do you say the "D"? No. No D." At least it differentiated me from all the other Lindseys, Lindsays and Lynzys running around.
I was planning to have an adult photo to contrast with my little three year old self, but then I realized in almost all my adult photos I'm with one or more people, making a face or just generally look like a dork. I would just reenact the above photo but I no longer have the bag and I'm pretty sure the jacket wouldn't fit. So just believe me when I say that I look like that only, you know, older and with more hair (I was bald until I was two so my hair was still pretty wispy when this picture was taken).
So there you go. Was it anticlimactic for you too? Sorry. In the interest in full disclosure I'll reveal a little bit more: I also review books (Romances and Young Adult mostly) for the website Paperbackreader.net. I only review books on the Bookseller Chick website if I like them, at Paperback Reader I follow their motto, "Honest and Unapologetic," which has resulted in me reviews of books I disliked.
Hmm. And that's it. Anything else you want to know?
I'll try to find an adult picture where I'm not making a fool of myself soon.
*More information available if the bribe includes free books.