A New Blog Has Come ...

What do you say to taking chances? What do you say to jumping off the edge? Never knowing if there's solid ground below, a hand to hold, or hell to pay. What do you say, what do you say?
-- "Taking Chances," Celine Dion

Welcome to my new home.

Bookmark it, blogroll it -- and, I hope, read it!

Today marks the end of Day 5 of my weeklong sabbatical from social media. I haven't been on Facebook or talking to anyone on Google Talk since Sunday. (OK, with two exceptions -- one was Chris, and the other was an oh-so-important discussion of the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale catalog with Christy.) Anyway, it has been nice to take a step away from other people's drama, from feeling hot and forgotten down here in the Dirty South, from spending hours playing around online when I have things to do.

I am caught up on laundry. I cleaned out and organized my refrigerator. I picked out tile and have been supervising the renovation of our bathroom. And, shockingly, I had time to write. And boy, did I ever.

Not only did I start my novel, which just may have a working title now, but I also wrote and posted "Speechless In Seattle," my first "Lois & Clark" gfic story since 2008. It was nearly 3 a.m. as I shakily clicked submit, but the sense of accomplishment won out over fatigue and nerves about whether I had lost my mojo.

And, most importantly, I have launched my new blog. I had been pondering a change for about a month, and finally am taking the leap. The thing is, The Daily Pinky was mainly about me and my path to self-discovery in the face of deadlines, drama, infertility, unemployment and other challenges.

But it's not just about me anymore.

I don't want to become one of those moms who only writes about her child and every little thing he does, but Collin is a big part of the story. He's arguably the main character now, as told through the eyes of the mom formerly known as Pinky. But I brought my old posts with me -- if for nothing else but to document the journey I have taken to get here.

And, in my quest to always be complex, both the title and URL have dual meanings.

"Taking Chances" is not only a play on our last name, but it's also the title of one of my favorite Celine Dion songs. And it's largely the summation of my life now -- the risks, the payoffs, the failures that go along with taking chances.

And "chancesthree" (threechances was taken) not only embodies our family -- me, Chris and Collin -- but it also plays into "The Story Of Us" series I have been writing about our relationship. Some people get a second chance at happiness. We got three -- and lived happily ever after.

That doesn't mean there isn't a little pink left in me, though; only that being Lois Lane is just one element of the story now. Just look at the fabulous blog-header art that my godmother made me. In that little red wagon is Collin -- and a stack of newspapers.

As for the woman in the pink dress, she's taking chances.

And maybe, just maybe, writing the next part of her story.

Finding independence ...

I hate the Fourth of July. Always have. As a child, the sound of fireworks scared me to death, and as an adult, I cannot stand seeing amateur, drunk pyromaniacs getting a little too close to setting my lawn on fire.

So tonight, I decided that today would be a different kind of independence day.

I have taken control of my independence, my career, my destiny -- and started my novel.

I have been dragging my feet on doing just that, for various reasons (namely that I would prefer to not fall on my face), but a trip to the grocery store this afternoon provided some unintentional clarity. In the middle of the juice aisle in the Lakewood Safeway, I took notice of the song on the loudspeaker -- a song that played an integral role in "Inside Out," my first full-length "Lois and Clark" story.

The story that went on to win multiple nKerth Awards. The story that provided a distraction when I needed one the most. The story that started it all.

When I heard that song playing, more than three years after I sat on my couch in the middle of the night, typing its lyrics into a Word file, it all came rushing back to me. How I could work on a scene for hours. How I would sit in traffic in downtown Seattle, running dialogue in my head. How much I loved writing.

Some people find it amusing that I write fanfic -- about Superman, no less -- but the bottom line is that it provided me a means of coping with my infertility. I couldn't control my body, but I could control what I wrote, when I wrote, where I wrote ... it became my therapy, and to this day, I maintain it was one of the smartest things I have ever done.

Type A people don't do well without a project.

But this is different. This is business. This is serious.

This isn't Lois Lane chasing the Pulitzer and Clark Kent chasing Lois Lane.

These aren't characters with established back stories and actors who have played them. Their histories, their descriptions, their emotions ... they're all mine.

And I'm ready.

I know her birthday, her address, her husband's name. She has a career, a best friend, a couple of cats. And she has a goal, one single-minded plan, that is driving her every thought and every move.

Her name is Alexandra.

She isn't my distraction.

She is my dream.