Saturday, May 25, 2013

incomplete works of nobody in particular

again.


It's the book I have to write, says Dolly's biggest fan. Again, There's this book. Ya' know the one I'm working on, the one I'm not working on. I don't know.

I smile. The book is To Kill a Mockingbird in character but with suspense and the girls are older and industrial mystery and boys. I'm hooked. I want her to write the book too but I know it will either come or not so it's not my place to pressure her.

What about you? I've never heard you say you have a book.

Ten thousand hours.

What?

I have to get ten thousand hours before I write the book.

Ten thousand hours of what?

Ya' know. Practice.

Practice what?

Writing. I figure I average about three hours per post.

Per post?

Ya' know, editing photographs, deciding photographs, figuring out what the hell I'm going to write, writing it.

Wait. You spend three hours blogging.

On average. It's taken up to five hours before, but ya' know, like today I just linked to another writer.

Five hours?

I know. I know. I've made fun of myself, but I've had to admit I'm slow so I'm okay with it. Plus, I had a book. It was called     ohgoodgosh      what was it      it was the perfect title      ohno      surely I can remember it. I turn toward Tempa and finally shout, Incomplete Works of Nobody in Particular. It was a collection of short stories. I still have them. There was an Air Force pilot who got her pilot's license the same day she got her driver's license. A blues singer who wrote a story called Toxic Ink because that's what his Mom used to say. A writer in Detroit. Josh. Others still may do it.

So is ten thousand hours your excuse?

Ummmmmaybe. I don't know. I just hadn't thought about it in a while.


Today I am grateful for reminders and interest and the time to consider.


5 comments:

Anonymous said...

I found it...I was putting special papers away and found it...old writings. Even that ms where I would bare my soul. I quickly flipped past its handwritten pages. I couldn't read it. My heart beat quickened. I closed the folder and the cedar chest. But tonight when everyone sleeps I am going back. I am going to read it and face myself. Face a fear...I wonder...

Anonymous said...

I held up a banner and it read, "I am a writer! Look at me!". And the crowd turned and looked at me...and fear crept in and I threw the banner to the ground and yelled to the crowd, "No, I am not. Please don't look at me!". And they turned away...and I breathed deeply, I was safe again...ahhh, safe...

Anonymous said...

Cool, multiple anonymous.

Shea Goff said...

I swear I've grown a new appreciation for the word anonymous. You come here and prove that the world can be a beautiful place. Strangers on the street, thank you.

Edea Baldwin said...

I have the title and everything....."Benign Neglect." Just lack the courage to put it on paper and give it life. But then, "put it on paper" May one day soon be as archaic as "turn the record over."