Blogger Newbie

I’ve won a competition. I’m not really a big competition winner – or even enterer, for that matter. I was narrowly beaten by my sister in a colouring-in competition one summer. I fought to the bitter end, but Clare’s ability to shade consistently in the same direction trounced my ‘creativity’, which was praised by the judges (Aunties Kathy and Eileen, and  a less interested Uncle John) and earned me my second place. Once I won a bottle of Gordon’s gin in a raffle. I was only nine and so the prize was claimed by my mother, but the glory was mine, all mine. I came top of my Year 6 class in our Cycling Proficiency test, but strictly speaking that wasn’t a competition. I was proud, though. Man, I could wave my arm and check for hazards like nobody’s business.

The competition was to be a real-life-bride-to-be blogger for a site called Rock My Wedding (www.rockmywedding.co.uk). Apparently, it’s a bit of a big deal. It got 270,000 hits last month. Crackerjack, no?  A little intimidating, yeah? Exciting, much? Eek.

I like writing. I do. Being an English teacher, I end up writing bits and pieces all the time – sample paragraphs, faux mark schemes, yadder yadder – but nothing that really sets me on fire with creative enthusiasm. Having a real life purpose and audience to my writing is pretty cool, though, and I’m a little – shucks, more than a little, a LOT! – excited about it all.

And, although I never anticipated it, I’m excited about the organisational aspect of the wedding. I’m not a girly-girl, no siree. Long dresses make me uncomfortable. I roll my eyes when people say ‘fiancee’, for fuck’s sake. I say ‘fuck’, for fuck’s sake. Three times now. I’m not cut out, really, for discussions about types of roses or favours. And don’t even get me started on chair covers. Can you think of a better way of wasting money - other than setting fire to it, maybe?

I’ve passed through the hippy ‘yeah, man, we’ll have a do in a church hall and have some bunting and home-made cakes. It’ll be rad!’ stage to the slightly manic ‘Christ, this is horrific, I’m naked in a changing room AGAIN!’ to the more rational. “Right. This is an event. For two hundred people. The majority of whom I know and care about and some of them I’d even go so far as saying I love. And I want to have a bloody good time with them. So let’s do it. Without going mad. Yeah?’ stage.

I submit my first entry in the next couple of weeks and I’m still a bit vague on topics (should I talk dress-hunting, or venue-hunting? Would it make sense to be chronological about it all, or start at where I am at the minute? Err, so that would be someone who has bought her wedding ring but doesn’t have a clue which florist she’s going to use. Priorities, McDonagh!) but I’m dying to get going. And I thought, well, maybe I should write a bit somewhere else. To keep it going, like. To generate a few ideas, maybe. To bash things out, so to speak.

So that’s what I aim to do. Watch this space.