Blogs! I now have four going and I’m truly thankful for whoever invented the idea of blogging.
When I first moved to Sacramento in my RV Wanda, where I’ve continued to live for 2 ½ years, I was newly unemployed from a job as a community newspaper editor. That sounds a bit glamorous, but the truth of it was I was also the reporter for the majority of the stories I ran and the weekly paginator. The point, however, is that when I quit I also left behind my weekly fix for a ready-made audience for my writing.
That’s when I discovered the joys of blogging as I chronicled my move, the search for a new job and my exploration of the area in my first blog, “Sacramento and Beyond.” I also developed a taste for the freedom of expression not allowed a journalist. I didn’t have to be so confoundedly careful.
At one time, I had amassed 650 visitors to that blog. I haven’t checked in a long time, so I don’t really know how many read it now, but I get nudges from some readers to get back on it.
It amazes me that I didn’t think of blogging about writing until just recently. How could that be? This is the subject I would go on and on about if anyone would listen. So, of course, I plan to exercise my freedom of speech on the subject ad nauseum.
Just you wait and see!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
My Passion
There’s a natural high that comes when I’m writing “in the zone.” This has happened to me often over the years, and I’ve become addicted to it.
I remember the first time this happened. I was working on a screenplay, before I ever had a computer, typing away on an IBM Selectric, which was pushed up against a white wall. As I typed the scene I was working on I could see it coming to life on the wall in front of me. That was so exciting. The following morning, when I went to read over what I’d written it was completely foreign to me. I didn’t remember writing it.
In fact, the best writing I do is stuff that I don’t recognize after the fact. When I’ve gone back into my novel or short story and find a section that sings along, it is pure heaven for me as well as a lovely surprise.
I don’t think of myself as the author of these passages. I believe there is some force at work within me that connects on a universal level. The subjects that flow so well are often more lofty portions of what I’m working on. It’s as if there’s a message to be communicated and I’ve been tagged to deliver it.
So, I find that I can go only for short periods without writing, like taking a mental breather, but ultimately I always return, after progressively briefer periods of respite, seeking the thrill of my passion.
I remember the first time this happened. I was working on a screenplay, before I ever had a computer, typing away on an IBM Selectric, which was pushed up against a white wall. As I typed the scene I was working on I could see it coming to life on the wall in front of me. That was so exciting. The following morning, when I went to read over what I’d written it was completely foreign to me. I didn’t remember writing it.
In fact, the best writing I do is stuff that I don’t recognize after the fact. When I’ve gone back into my novel or short story and find a section that sings along, it is pure heaven for me as well as a lovely surprise.
I don’t think of myself as the author of these passages. I believe there is some force at work within me that connects on a universal level. The subjects that flow so well are often more lofty portions of what I’m working on. It’s as if there’s a message to be communicated and I’ve been tagged to deliver it.
So, I find that I can go only for short periods without writing, like taking a mental breather, but ultimately I always return, after progressively briefer periods of respite, seeking the thrill of my passion.
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