Publish And Be Dull

I was reading over the weekend about the (newish) trend in turning blogs into books (Blooker Prize etc.) Trouble is - and I've written about this before - those bloggers who are being asked to do this are pretty much exclusively anonymous young women who are writing about shagging their way around offices, or moving to Northumberland, and I don't feel I could fool you that I was engaged in either of these agendas. They call it a revolution in publishing. I call it sexism, or just another form of porn on the web.

I guess I will stick to what I do know, which is my househusbandnot lists etc. On which, respect to the anonymous commenter who reported on his/her dream about me writing a list on what to do with jump leads. Welcome dear friend to that extremely small club of those of us who dream about hhn. There's me. And you. And...well, like I said. It is an exclusive membership to the hhn Dream Academy. If anyone else out there has joined up, let me know, and I will send you the mrs househusbandnot guide on how to get a life.

Jump leads? I was always terrified of them as a child. They lay dormant in the boot of my parents' various cars, ready to be charged into action at the first sign of a whining battery. Do people still use them? Are they just as snappy and vice-like as they were when I was young? I was always worried that I was going to get my finger caught in one of the jaws, or that I would put the wrong lead against the wrong connection and blow the car up. I remember then being used a lot. I guess my parents bought a lot of dud second hand cars, or often forgot to change the batteries in those cars. Or...fuck, this isn't going to be turned into a novel of any sort is it?

Anyway off to Oxshott this morning to do some work on the website. Styx told me recently that he and I were almost killed in Oxshott on the way back from a road trip to Portugal. He was driving, and said that of all those hundreds of miles down to Porto and back again, the near miss collision in Oxshott was as close as it got to an accident. It would have been a bit crap to die in Oxshott. Far more glamorous "just south of Madrid" or "on the Spanish border". Thankfully, it didn't happen anywhere, and we live and breathe to blog. (Styx doesn't blog. He should, but he doesn't. Actually mrs styx should too. Will hassle them about it when I see them later in the week.)

It's funny isn't it. The minute you think about trying to get your blog to read like something that someone might want to publish, you get all self conscious and write the dullest hhn post ever. I'm not sure the Blooker prize etc are a good idea. It's just publishers beign lazy isn't it? Or bloggers being hopeful? Both should be avoided.