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Harangue about offal

August 5, 2015
I turn over the dungheap of my imagination to find -- more of the same.

I turn over the dungheap of my imagination to find — more of the same.

The drivel just below this is what I really don’t like to write. That is, generalities. Whoa! More generalities. I feel like having a tantrum and bouncing a shoe against the wall with my angry kicking on the floor. I feel compelled to write, but I don’t like the product very well. That’s why I hope to attend some coaching sessions and groups where I can get some pushback. Also, I am dimly aware of rules of grammar and punctuation that I don’t follow. I realize that getting someone to read one’s stuff is easier if one follows the rules. True? Of course, it depends on how compelling is the writing. One doesn’t need to spell the word dynamite correctly for it to be dangerous.
Drivel. Vacuous drivel. I think I’ll start a new blog, but I’ll call it “Vacuous Drivel.” I really would like to publish others’ writings, so I would need a swell website complete with cool artwork. No. No to cool artwork.
I would start a new blog without cool artwork. I’d have crap artwork. Crap writing? No. Well, maybe. But nobody has time to read even a word of crap. Crap.
How do people write fiction? I think they write the truth, but call it fiction. The fiction is entirely in calling it fiction. The writers are writing about real people and claiming that any resemblance is coincidental. Bullshit on that!
How do they keep people from knocking on their doors, and then their heads? Writers have to live in seclusion. They remain hidden behind a hedge of tangled words that are not generalities, but specifics. Like their shoes. Are they new? Yes. Have they laces? Yes. Did they buy them from Scheels? No. I mean, yes. Another coincidence. My made-up sporting goods store name matches a real one on the west end of town.

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