Have you heard about these poor things? Created, fed for a time then left to fend for themselves in the spooky forest of On Line Contacts. Almost makes me weep.


These seemingly innocent creature start out cuddly, warm things, curling in your brain with fun ideas of Writing Down What Matters. Like all living things, their eyes are big and wet, tongues slurping all over your mind, delighting with promises of entertainment and mental exercise Without Leaving the Comfort of Your Own Environment, until…

They grow in to this voracious eater of time and mental effort.

Every day or week or month (easy to lose track of time when it marches up and down in your mind just at that moment of almost sleep) the Blog zings an arrow of Not Done across your mind.

Messages like, readers are waiting. You said you’d do one this week. Why are you doing laundry, writing something else, looking at your phone?

You said.

You promised.

Feed Me!

Sheesh. Write a blog, they said.

It’ll be fun, they said.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. They, whoever They are, isn’t doing it. They are Expecting it.

At least with pets or kids, the reward is more tangible. Hugs, kisses, I love you looks. Blogs got none of that. They just eat, eat, eat.

Kinda like newspaper columns, when those appeared in newspapers. Many is the columnist who lived by 800 words, or whatever the editor set as the standard count. Television scriptwriters sometimes talk about the Story, that ever looming deadline of getting a script ready for production as a beast that only eats and is never satisfied, because next week, next month, next season, if you still have a job, the story must be done. Again.

So, Blog, I know you’re there. Waiting. Hovering. Hungry.

But you have competition now.

The Novel.

May the most persistent win.

No teeheehee. More like, Egad, they keep multiplying.