Blogging....or not to blogging...ugh

I haven't blogged much since I upgraded to the new website. I'm having a hard time making this blog format work for me. I wanted everything in one place. It's not working in one place. The rest of the site is awesome. This blog is not awesome. I can't insert pictures where I want them. I can't cut and paste in a link to anything. I have to type in the links manually. Some of the links I want to use are very long and involved. Hello Amazon book links. I don't want people running around all over the place to find my books and my blog and my stuff but...UGH.

Of course, I've more or less let blogging fall by the wayside in the last few months. I'm trying. It's been a really bad year. Really bad. I can't be positive and perky much anymore and it comes through in my posts. So much negative in my life right now. I don't know what to talk about. I can talk about my pets or my books. How many times can you hear about someone's cat before you just really wish they'd shut up? I feel like I'm beating a dead horse with the books. I mean there are 22 of them but most of them are old and I've talked about them until I'm blue in the face and singing to the choir.

I think I'm going to go back to my really old Blogger blog just to blog. I didn't like the wordpress blog, it wasn't easy to use either. I no longer post adult content so the reason I left blogger no longer exists. I have a tumblr account for adult content. Sooo...I think in the next day or so I'm going to put up a blog redirect and try to incorporate the old and the new and see if it works. That will be the next post.



Mercy Celeste

Mercy Celeste is the pen name and super hero persona of mild mannered MJ Colbert....which is bull, I'm not mild mannered. I was, in fact, raised in a barn—or several. We even had grain silos. My motto growing up, anything a boy can do, I'm right behind him doing it just as well or better. I've broken too many bones to begin to count. Scraped, skinned or scarred pretty much everything that can be scraped, skinned or scarred. How I'm still walking and talking is a miracle.

So about the writing, well, I don't really consider myself to be a writer. I'm a storyteller, and when I have a story to tell, it won't rest until it's twisted me up and purged itself. The result is at times comical or tragic, depending on the people who live in my head and what they have to say. Most days that's not a lot of anything. Others I can't shut them up. They especially love when I'm driving, oh, yeah, a drive across town is a lesson in how not to get myself killed or be pulled over for reckless driving. And those are the good days.

Welcome to my crazy world, if it's boring now, wait five minutes, and don't blink. Things have a tendency to get interesting around me.