I used to have this THING inside me. The THING was like a metal detector except that it could care less about safety pins, old bottle caps, and 18th century coins. My THING sniffed out blog topics. And so I always had this storage bin in the back of my brain that housed everything from funny kid stories to political opinions to observations on the half-naked teenagers making out by my mailbox. My brain bin was always overflowing with crap because I never had enough time to transfer my blog topic collection onto the actual BLOG.
I still don't have much in the way of time, but lately I have felt as if my THING needs to be repaired. It will look at a perfectly good blog topic and not know whether to stuff it in the brain bin or smile at it and keep walking. Sometimes the THING doesn't even recognize blog topics anymore. It's like, I gave it a short vacation of sorts, put it in the closet for a few months, and now that I've tried to take it out and vacuum with it, it still wants to read a book and sip coffee, its feet propped up with pillows.
So instead of forcing it to do it's job, I'm going to make an announcement. Tomorrow (Saturday, May 30) there is going to be a massive collection of authors signing books at a place called Cookin' Books in Chama, New Mexico. The Fiesta del Libro is what we call this thing, and if you've never been to Chama... all I can say is, I'm sorry. And go. The weather will be in the low to mid seventies. The clean mountain air is fragrant with pine, and maybe a whiff of a nearby campfire and someone roasting chile. I will be there looking out for you and maybe you can help me figure out how to fix my THING.
2 strokes of genius:
I've struggled with the same Thing recently, or rather lack of.
I pass over things I would have blogged about in a heartbeat. It made me wonder if I'd thoroughly lost my mojo.
But my mojo's *different* now. I can't, simply can't blog about things that don't truly grab me by the *insert male anatomy here* and don't let go.
(I realise that the phrase "insert male anatomy here" is deeply wrong, but I'm tens of words away from there now, look, it's getting further and further away as I write, and there's nothing I can do about it from down here, my fingers aren't long enough to reach over and edit it. Sorry).
What aches to be heard within you? What makes you roar with indignation or laughter? That's what you should blog. Or at least, that's what you should blog first. And yes, we all want to read it. Take that as read.
(In an ideal world, that's what we should all be blogging. People trying to sell me Follower-adding products on Twitter, I'm talking to *you*).
I'm biased. I'd probably enjoy your writing even if it was a list of what's currently in your fridge. But - what would *you* want to read if you were reading in here instead of writing?
- Mikeachim ('Fevered Mutterings').
Great advice as always, Mike. And also very kind. Thank you. :)
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