Ok, ok. I did it. I caved. Here I am, people.

Due to some extensive pressuring of professional (and personal) peers around me, I am finally entering the blogsphere.

Is that what you call it? The blogsphere? Or did I just accidentally put in for a new Webster word, to soon be added after twerk, frenemy, and lindseylohanrealityshow?

I had a blog set up since I began my career as an author two years ago, but it was really just because I had to. I think I had three posts over eighteen months. I guess that’s not technically how I’m supposed to do things in the blogsphere.

So, happy 2014! Here’s to a hopefully colorful and entertaining handful of blurbs involving my reality-tv-show-worthy personal life (Hey, “Battle Cats” got its own reality show. Don’t judge me so quick.)

I’ll start basic.

Hi, I’m Tabitha. I write books for teenagers. It’s my full-time job, a dream come true, and I have a ball doing it. It’s a pretty awesome gig. Also due to the fact that I can wear my flannel jammies to work every day.

I’m a Southerner, born and raised in Georgia, and I just merged that already loud culture with another even louder way of life–my husband is a Romanian Railroader. Tall, dark, and handsome, with a European romantic streak that will knock your knees together and cause an explosion of cartoon hearts to erupt out of your ears. He comes with a family that is My Big Fat Greek Wedding on Red Bull. They are emotional, raging with passion, love, and adventure, and can convince you that Vodka is a food group. It’s great.

When I met my husband two years ago, I left my warm, Southern sunshine to be with him in the tropical heaven of….Cleveland, Ohio. (Yes, I’m really sarcastic.)

When you have that thick, warm-weather blood running through your veins, anywhere above the Mason Dixon line feels like the Arctic. So, instead of referring to my new home as “Ohio”, we are just gonna go with “the Arctic”. Got it? Great.

Once I arrived in the Arctic, my husband pushed and pleaded for me to quit my normal job and chase my dream of being an author. I finally caved, and somehow, it actually turned out right. With a solid backing of love, support, and enthusiasm from my hubs, I don’t think I could have ever allowed myself to fail at this…and I was actually lucky enough to make it my full-time career.

Well, aside from being a Real Railroad Housewife, of course.

Ah, the Railroad. The steel this country was built on, still rumbling through all powerful now. It’s not Polar Express, people!

The Railroad is the Mistress in my life. It takes away my hubs for days on end sometimes, leaving me to walk around my house mumbling new stories to myself while shamelessly in the same wine-stained t-shirt and grungy sweatpants for a week.

When my Railroader is home, the clouds part. (No, no, I’m not being sarcastic this time) He is really an awesome man who seriously sits there after working a 48 hour straight shift and intently and patiently listens to me ramble on about a chapter I just wrote this afternoon about an ordinary girl who had to fight off a gigantic seamonster on a paddle boat.

Have you seen the AT&T commercials with the man sitting at a round table with all the little kids, listening and talking to them as if they are adults with some logical thoughts?

That’s exactly what my kitchen table looks like when I corner my husband with my fictional bubble I’ve been in all day. He’s a good sport.

So this is my life, in a nutshell. It’s half fake characters having a party in my brain and half real characters in my life constantly blowing sparkly confetti out of a Ke$ha-made glitter gun.

I hope you’ll enjoy the shenanigans with me as we begin this new year.

Now, I’m off to write about the newest tale in the cloud bubble above my head….something about….apocalyptic female gladiators?

Hmmmm, now this should make for an interesting Wednesday.


(Originally posted January 8, 2014)


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