I always say writing begets writing. The more you write, the more you will write. Having typed in those two sentences, I sit here, typing in a third sentence and backspacing it out, several times, because it is a cliche, or because it is not quite what I wanted to say, or, oh well, any of the many reasons one decides to unwrite what one has written.
What I’m trying to say is, I have been writing since I got home from work and I’m tired. On the brighter side, I finished and emailed two articles to Mohawk Valley Living magazine. On the duller side, I am just barely ahead of deadline, and I had faithfully promised to do better this month. In my defense, it cannot be denied that shit happens.
So this is a Monday Mental Meanderings post, and I guess my thoughts are indeed meandering. This is what happens when one writes a daily blog and one clearly does not write enough. If I wrote enough, I would have at least a couple of extra posts hanging around somewhere, just waiting for me to hit Publish. Well, one cannot live one’s life on “if.” What is that nursery rhyme: If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
Then again (see how I argue with myself?) what is a fiction writer (which I sometimes am) but somebody who continually asks and answers the question, “What if?” What if several people all wanted a guy dead, and then he dropped dead? That is the plot of most of my murder mysteries. Oh that reminds me, I have to finish my script for Secrets at Suiter House, the murder mystery I am writing for Herkimer County Historical Society. I’ll keep you posted on how that goes.