Radar Jockey Dot Net

Writers have always said (have they? -ed.) in one form or another that if you want to be a writer, you have to write. I don’t really want to be a writer, but I do want to write. Does that make sense? It’s therapeutic, and on some level I find it satisfying. I took a creative writing course in high school and rather enjoyed it, much to my surprise. My teacher seemed to be pleased with my work and encouraged me and there have been others at times that have had good things to say. I wish this medium were around back when I was in high school, or shortly thereafter. Back then there really wasn’t a way to get a wider audience beyond a teacher or family or friends without plying the trade. You know, actually making an effort. Finding a subject, researching it, writing draft after draft, maybe some peer review from other struggling authors, then submitting Xeroxed copies (kids, ask your parents -ed.) to various publishers in hopes of getting one of them to look at it just long enough to spot the nascent brilliance buried within an anguished soul. Shoot. Now I just fire up the ol’ inter-web thingy and spew whatever literary genius comes forth and I’m a published author! I don’t even care if anybody ever reads it; it’s the thought that someone might. Someone from anywhere in the world. Maybe a few someones, er… somebodies. Not only that, it’s probably better they be faceless, nameless readers. Criticism from acquaintances can sting. Strangers throwing garbage is relatively painless.

They might hate it. But I’ll be honest. I started reading something once that I really didn’t like. It wasn’t very good writing and I wasn’t too fond of the author either. It was my father’s memoir, and there were things in the few pages I browsed in the time he gave me that I never, ever knew, and probably wouldn’t have otherwise. People write things they would never say or talk about publicly, or maybe they just couldn’t say it nearly as eloquently. I know I’m much more coherent using the written word than I am discussing a topic in person, so there are things that I might be able to say in writing that I would just leave unsaid otherwise. That’s not to say I wouldn’t be better off leaving it unsaid, period. That’s another subject. My point is, even though someone might not care for me or my writing, there is always the chance I could alter their perception in some way, whether it is of me, or the subject matter. That’s too good to pass up.

Back to my creative writing teacher: Mrs. Gregory from Arlington Central High, LaGrange, NY. Nope, I didn’t forget her name. I wasn’t going to mention it before, but I figure just on the astronomical chance she reads this, I owe her enough to give her public credit for influencing the life, however trivially, of a troubled teen almost 30 years ago. Must not have been very trivial though if I still remember, huh? One of the things she said I have always remembered was that if you sit down to write and can’t think of anything to write about, start writing about not being able to think of anything to write. Just write about anything, or nothing. Before you know it, you’ll have pages filled up and more ideas than you know what to do with for future pieces. Mrs. Gregory, that’s pretty much what I did tonight. I started out with a blank sheet the size of planet Earth and nothing to write, and it led me to you. Ladies and gentlemen, I have a blog…