I must confess I am not through blogging. I blog a great deal where I work and that has led me to the illusion that I am blogging after all and have left nothing behind.But I have, of course.
Waxing eloquent about poetry is not enough– you must pursue it, but as this is my place of honesty, I have not been pursuing poetry for a while now. Not at all– all my interests are going prosaic and this worries me. Though I did madly read Philip Levine the other day.
There are many things about me that my blog has not touched and I find this strange.
The first #book(see I’m a hashtag addict) I ever wrote was a self-help book. It took a couple of years for all the wheels and cogs to come together, but I wrote it to see if 326 pages was possible. It was.
Then I wrote a short novella, and considering that this is my blog and that it must be self-serving, I should have done more work on the paranormal romance genre and speculative fiction genre in general.
Has it ever happened to you that you have been blogging for a long time and you suddenly realized that you had a place at your disposal to say so many things, and you didn’t? I envy those who use their fbs and twitters to speak so fluently about the place where they are at.
It calls for some kind of fluency of the fingers to type out your life to your timeline.
When will I ever learn to do it–must I? Must you?
© neelthemuse, 2015
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