I must return to Facebook for the time pendant. I need the connection to readers and I haven’t been actively persuing an actual career in any other sense, it has been years since I have sent anything off to a publisher or tried writing columns and ‘letters to the Editor’. The value of my letters that were published is a great bone for my two sorts of psyche to contend over. I am almost never sure that what I write is ‘chosen’. Since the Windsor Star is more than a little like a ‘dog bites man’ newspaper, my letters were always published – there was plenty of room. I always questioned the real value of what I had written. Sigh. In my Facebook world, I found a core group of readers who actually seemed to value my work. That was interesting. The sense of accomplishment I had in reaching out is missing in the new day, my attempted day away from servitude to a marketing strategy. It must be possible to work around Mr. Zuckerberg’s traps successfully. To do so will take a great deal of personal strength…I shall try. I will turn this whole science around and make it work for me.
Tally-ho!
The book is shaping differently than what I had hoped. “Nearly Every Dish in the House” appears to be more a memoir? That said, I will have to be very careful in the writing of it in order that no one gathers enough material for a law-suit. Ha. (Hey! Interesting story — Motorcycle Man is back inside, getting a coffee. I think he was having an affair with that woman. The affair is now a thing of the past and he is meeting no one today. His pants are very tight and it is difficult to tell whether he is overweight or not. I think not, he is just round. Hmmmm, new haircut….) Back to the book.
‘Nearly’ might end up as a blend of the rough drafted ‘Buster’ and a couple of other essay-like pieces. I am having a daydream that it would be appropriate to do so. Taking it as a whole, then I will have finished a book of poetry and a full memoir. I will have proven to myself that I can do it. Wish me luck.
Over time, it becomes less and less important that I write the masterpiece. What is important is that I write for enjoyment, not that I make an indelible mark. I have proven that I can complete a 70,000 words plus bit of writing that makes sense and has a couple of good, useful things to say. That will have to be enough. That I can get a letter published in the paper will have to be enough. That I can get a poem published in a regional poetry broadside will have to be enough. There is not enough time to complete the training and develop the skill to be a truly great writer. Random House is never going to call me. I don’t think that folks like Barbara Striesand will respect what I do but that is less and less important. The rest of the world is someone else’s thing. Mine is to do and be for myself, a lesson I am still working on at age 70.
I have spent most of my life now in a prison of my own making and the breakout started when I succeeded at four-year college classes of various types. I even took Algebra/calculus classes and passed them with a 3.9 average? Who would have guessed? Now, I am: a writer, a singer, a guitar player, a pianist… None of those things are peak efforts but they are real. I can write a poem that sounds ok. I can sing fairly well, if given lots of rehearsal. I can play a song or two or three on the guitar and piano. Am I Justin Timberlake, Ella Fitzgerald, Pablo Neruda, Charles Bukowski, Dylan? Um…no. The absolute, utter truth is that I don’t need to be. There are enough of them and they are doing just fine. I can read good writing any time I wish, I can hear great music any time I wish. I can also write and make music, any time I wish.
I miss the connection to folks so I am returning to the Facebook platform that I might send my messages off on the next train in.
Have a pleasant day, that is all there is.
Robert On The Air 