Update: Author’s Notes has moved
Visit me and a few writer friends on our new publication, Counter Arts.
Other subtitles I nearly went with: ‘An Aussie Yank,’ or ‘Witted — quick and slow,’ or this one, ‘From well-paid, no-readers technical writer to got-readers, but no-pay blog writer.’ But in all of that is the joy of writing.
I will say upfront, I prefer the modern English of my youth but occasionally the Queen’s English slips through to the wicketkeeper, so pardon my jargon. I may write “colour” but I’ll never say “Al-loo-MIN-ee-um”. Promise.
Okay, on with the me…
All I’m hearing in my head is relational ga ga.
I don’t even have the radio on.
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio goo goo
Radio blah blah
Radio Ga Ga, Queen
The writing muse has led me down a path today, so best go with it.
I’ve already posted one ‘relational’ piece today, the prompt: ‘Pick Your Lyrics and Connect’.
I’m ditching the word ‘relational’. It’s a Medium buzzword, but does nothing for me; the word, not the concept.
I’m feeling it more in the sense of community, karma and human kindness. …
Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
The Sound of Silence, Simon & Garfunkel
Our editorial team kicks around the ideas for prompts once in a while. The ‘while’ being those rare, lucid moments when we talk ‘business’.
Consider yourselves prompted.
Or entertained. Or at least leaving in a few moments with a song stuck in your shaking head (it’ll happen).
The lyrics above fit exactly how this prompt percolated in my…
“I read the news today, oh boy,”
Sorry, songs in my head annoy.
This may be a yell,
or it’ll just smell.
Here’s another limerick. Enjoy.
I read about a giant fluffy octopi,
now twisted in my mind’s eye.
scribbling, trying to save this guy.
What is it with this giant octopi?
Suddenly hijacked in my sigh.
To this diatribe,
do you subscribe?
Writing, trying to detoxify.
Another writer lost his dreams.
The work-life balance beyond his means.
Less a rant,
more Gregorian chant.
But in my head, I hear his screams.
Tell ’em about working…
If you’ve followed me from small town obituary writing, aka Part I, Welcome!
Here’s where things get real.
If you’ve just shown up here in Part II, Welcome.
Don’t worry, the dead aren’t going anywhere.
It’s the newest writer’s market.
Pubs are dying.
They’re dropping like flies at Bubba’s Diner, as we say back home in Dirt. But this isn’t fiction, it’s real. The goal posts get moved and the ground shifts under our feet, same is true in Medium.
Some blame Medium for cutting the purse strings or the teats off the cow.
Others blame the writers, those too busy…
“The problem with being the obituary writer in a dying small town? I have to write fiction to help pay the bills.” — Anderson Hohl
“Mahalia Drace, 73, born, raised and died here in Dirt. Owned Drace Hardware with her husband, Drake, for 42 years. Survived by her son, Darrell, who has run the hardware store for 16 years now. RIP Mahalia.”
Another day’s work off to the printer.
That’s it. That was the sum of excitement for my day. I’d write two or three lines about the latest person no longer walking around Dirt and get it to the…
“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” — Mark Twain
I feel that way now that I write nearly every day. The days I don’t write? I usually feel off, that something’s missing — while still thinking about something I’d like to write.
But that answers the question of why I write.
I wouldn’t be able to explain, clearly, what a preposition is. I’d have to Google Merriam and Webster. …
Then show up for work and find a colleague and friend (*cough*, Christopher Robin) is in the same mood? Flames fucking fanned.
Yup, I typed The F-Word, and I left the ‘u’ in.
No goddamn sensitivities-covering asterisk.
I like the old, Modern English of my American youth, but I live in the butt-corner of the world now and there is something to the old saying of ‘When in Rome…’. The metric system isn’t an issue, I got used to that at university. Celsius to Fahrenheit? Not a problem.
A few words and spellings, swapping r’s and e’s (‘center’ to ‘centre’)…
‘It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.’ — Ancient Roman phrase
That phrase is based on the only rule of ancient Roman wrestling — no eye gouging — and it’s the saying at the heart of this prompt by Jennifer McDougall. It’s the eye of the storm, so to speak.
My version has always been, ‘Starts in laughter, ends in tears.’
Back in the U.S. Of A.
A friend and I, each at our own homes a couple blocks apart, are doing arts and crafts.
He uses a pocket knife to remove a staple. Leaning over the…