Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end.
So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.
Ah, content. Content makes one content. But it's all about nostalgia, really. And I have enough of that - it was my hetday, after all. I had an idea of writing a book about it once but I lost my round tuit. To be honest, I'm in two minds about those days. We had some good ideas but we allowed the whole thing to be hijacked by commercial and political interests. the result you see all around you today.
Oh man! I was hooked by the entry title. A throwback entry of sorts was my suspicion as I waited the nano second it took to follow your newsfeed link here. I mean, I will take the 9 words plus two punctuations, don't get me wrong. I just would have liked more content.
I’m a pantser by nature, but I have a pretty finely tuned instinct because I took the Elements of Literature textbooks quite seriously in my homeschooling, and read about a million books a week of all sorts as a kid (including stuff beyond my age group…) Aided by a vivid imagination, I find myself scribbling loose brainstorming ideas at the top of a document and then jumping right into the story from there. I haven’t written a real second draft since March… which means I’m churning out somewhat sloppy stories at an alarming rate
I held the whole matter of the existence of Santa Claus in the realm of the dubious (but useful) until I was twelve. I did not then decide on the facts available (they were, after all, contradictory) but stayed awake all night to see for myself. Having ascertained the truth from this experiment, I had the good sense not to noise it abroad and so ensured continuation of the tradition for a few more years.
Interestingly, my son, Mad, managed to keep the thing going well into his late teens, even though we all knew that he knew and he knew that we knew. He was always a charming blighter...
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