Kicking and Screaming

I blame it ALL on Tawna Fenske, my CP. That, and I got tired of not being able to reply to all the cool things I saw on Twitter when I was lurking.

But yeah. I'm in. I'm a twit. (The Husband likes the sound of THAT confession!)

And I had no idea just how many Cynthia Reeses there were out there. I had to use a weird username (@cynthiarreese)in order for Twitter to finally accept me.

I knew there was a realtor Cynthia Reese. She was the one who got the .com domain name before I first made the leap to a webpage, and so I had to make do with a .net domain name.

But apparently there are lots and lots of Reeses out there that I had no idea existed. I wonder: do they have more exciting lives than I do? Or do their lives look pretty much like mine?

I'm not one to trust technology or go whole hog for the newest trend. It's not that I'm a Luddite.

Nope. I'm just a coward. Shoot, half my fear of getting on Twitter was that I'd hash up the profile and make some seriously fatal mistake. I almost chucked the whole idea when I couldn't figure out what name to put as my user name.

I could have gone with cynreese. But I mean, really. I've just sent in an inspirational romance proposal to my editor. Somehow I don't think a name that sounds like "sin" would endear me much to her. :-)

The thing that gave me confidence (besides the idea that Tawna would yodel, "Ch-ch-chicken!" if I didn't do it) was you. Your comments. Your loyalty. When I put my heart out there, when I shared the bumps in the road and the tricks that I've learned, you were there. And I found I wanted to know more about you guys -- that I didn't want to have to wait until your next blog posts.

So please. Go find me in Twitterville. Hold my hand. Shoot, put me in a straight jacket so that I don't do something very stupid.