I don't know what to say

I’m a writer. It’s what I do. I use those cute little things we all learned to form at school to make words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, sometimes (hold the front page it’s getting crazy) books. Okay I use a computer not paper and pencil, but the concept is kind of the same.

But here’s the thing this writing blog post/newsletter stuff well it’s different, you know.

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I have an imagination (yes I know I wrote about not being able to write fiction and that was/is true. Don’t fret it’s taken a vacation – its clothes are still in the closet it hasn’t thrown its keys on the table and slammed the door. Seems like it’s checking in so stories will return. Bear with while it shows me its holiday photos and gives me some trinket from some place I can’t pronounce and have no clue what to do with).

I digress – you knew what you were signing up for don’t look at me like you’re shocked.

Grab a drink, a snack and a comfy spot and we’ll continue.

Nonfiction - this stuff here (ok mostly) has command of the bookshelves.

Poetry is allowed full access (not that she cares she is very happy on the sofa knowing I’m not going anywhere without her so she will only get freaked if I tell her to pack her bags then she pitches her tent in the garden and waits for me to notice it’s raining so I’ll open the door, hand her a towel and dry clothes and we pick up where we left off – she might whinge a bit but she soon settles down).

Fiction wanders like a lost soul – sometimes allowed on the bookshelves, sometimes on the sofa, sometimes goes off for the day, days, weeks at a time but always comes back. I was a little concerned this time (He could have called you know) but as I say all will be well.

Making nonfiction do more than its fair share of the work made it a little tired. Think it was about to call the union on me if I didn’t get poetry off the sofa and make her help out. She did eventually and they are working on their relationship. At some point fiction’s holiday mood will leave. He’ll stop dancing like nobody’s watching because deep down he wants them to, and he’ll do some work and there will be a sense of balance.

But yes to get back to where I was (if anyone knows) this is different. Blogging/writing newsletters is not a story exactly but can be, not poetry but can be, nonfiction kind of sort of but not in a university assignment or write to this theme sort of way.

It requires ideas, imagination (sometimes) and a willingness to intrude into inboxes where it may or may not be welcome. If I write nonfiction for a book you get some idea what it’s about up front so you can say yes or no or leave parts unread. OK you can delete my emails unread if you so desire but where’s the fun in that?

I’m random in case it passed you by so one post may be rather different from the last and the next and so on which may thrill or delight you (ok too much I’m getting carried away) you might enjoy that aspect (better) or it might drive you to wonder what you signed up for don’t look at me. I have no answers I only write words and sometimes I clearly don’t know what to say.)

P.S. Aren’t you glad I have someone check my punctuation before I publish my books?

Life with Lily - One sentence at a time is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.