Blog titles I came up with when I couldn’t come up with blog titles

I’m never sure what to think when people say the best thing about my blogs are their titles. It’s like saying the best thing about a restaurant is its menu

I don’t know if its too much coffee, the sudden clement weather, British detective shows, a protagonist I will maybe kill off, related homicidal concerns, the word “maybe”, solid magenta running shoes, the dozen or so weighted blankets in the dozen or so shopping carts and the daily prompts to fucking checkout already, anxious geranium seeds, rosacea, or what – but I’m having trouble concentrating which makes writing difficult. Sometimes switching to longhand helps but not this time – before you know it I’m drawing stick birds and flying poo – while wondering what colour the kitchen cabinets should be if I ever get around to it and whether Mick Jagger is out of tune in the first line of Ruby Tuesday or even if it’s him at all.

I am all over the place. I cannot seem to commit to anything but murder

I’m back on The Poole Obits with fresh eyes and pounding heart. It’s challenging, the research is daunting but fascinating – I am googling things most people never even think about – and it’s tipping realms slowly, from murder mystery to thriller.

Sometimes I have to check under my chair and switch to decaf or even all the way to wine

The cast is small and tight and twitchy and I am working hard to write in a highly controlled manner which is wonderful when it works and horrible when it doesn’t. The word count goes both ways a couple of times a day and checking it is just like stepping on the scale – I get the same girded kind of grimace – so I’ve stopped counting and am trying to get the que sera back, you know, the old what will be will be, so I can get on with the story as well as germinating and painting and other spring ings including blogging.

So here, in the spirit of sera, a few of the blog titles that didn’t make it* because I was too angsty to feel funny

My self-improvement journey – A eulogy

If I had a parrot it would mostly say “dumb motherfucker”

Remembering good hygiene, waistbands, and holding in your farts

At what point are eyebrows considered facial hair?

I am grooming Daisy to be a retired Superdog, cha-ching

Is shithead an oxymoron?

Ugh

Concepts I cannot grasp including the speed of light, plaid, and sea horses

This one’s for narcissists and yes! I mean you!

An open letter to spiders everywhere (may contain gestures)

An obituary for all the fucks I pretended to give

*You’re welcome

But you know every one of those titles will be coming soon to a blog near you, right?

So brace yourself

And please subscribe if you want them sent to your inbox