Writing has a history that began with symbolic characters pressed into clay tablets from about 3,500 BCE (five & a half thousand years ago) in then, Sumer (Mesopotamia). From keeping track of grain harvested, stored and sold, writing has evolved to modern alphabets, written language and stories for every purpose one can imagine. By now reading and writing is a necessary skillset. From making your signature on a receipt to writing a text book, from reading a calendar to a (Tom Sawyer) classic, literacy is required to navigate our culture. Some have taken literacy seriously, so much so that we identify as Writers and work at length to master the art.
Sometimes I need to clarify my Writer’s identity and this is one of those times. In 1964 as a 25 year-old college freshman I needed an outlet to vent some issues where there was no willing listener. I started writing with a purpose in a spiral notebook. A 40 year career in education followed and as my journal grew the writing improved.
After retirement in 2001 I became an itinerant storyteller, traveling anyplace and everywhere, still documenting my story, my spiral notebook had been replaced by an Apple laptop. In 2012 I summered in Halifax, Nova Scotia. My son and daughter in law requested (twisted my arm) that I convert the journal to a blog so they could keep up with me, know where I was and that I was alive and well. Me creating a blog has never been about writing for public consumption. I never stopped journaling and much of it made its way into my blog. The point is; most bloggers are trying to grow a following, I was not and I am not. Over the 12 years I've picked up a few followers but 7 or 8 hits on the same post is rare. Leaving a comment is a clumsy, unfriendly process so I have no idea who the visitors are, the website counts hits but doesn’t ID them.
In the 1990’s I belonged to a really good writer’s guild in Grand Rapids, MI where I was nurtured by some awesome writer/friends. Y2K came along, I retired and went on the road. But I had identified heroes like Nobel Laureate, Elie Wiesel who deftly proclaimed; “I write as much to understand as to be understood.” I make that same observation. My writing explores and shapes whatever is on my mind, whatever the voice inside my head gives me. If it resonates with someone else that’s fine but I do it for me. I write it, then edit, then revise and rewrite, by the end of the process it usually stands on its own legs but I own it. I’ve learned that edit/revision/rewriting is the long, hard work of making the piece work. I remember submitting first draft reports in college and wondered why I only got C’s; duhh! By now, anytime I review old work I make new changes as I see the need. Often I write stuff in the journal/blog that needs work but then I never get back to them. It's like traveling; it's about the journey, not the destination.
This is not a disclaimer, rather a clarification. It will need cleaning up but I doubt it gets it. The point here is: Since emerging from the Covid pandemic, I’m not happy with a lot of stuff that has gone into the blog, it’s like slow dancing. When the band stops playing and goes home, you are done whether you know it or not. So I’m not happy with some stuff I’ve done lately. Much of it is nothing more than process that needed to be written but not so much to be read. Still my kids know where I’ve been and when I’m back home again.
Academically I was a late blooming wall flower, not ready until I was 25. I experienced the joy of discovery for the first time and I’ve never been able to satisfy that appetite. I want to know everything there is to know and I study more now that I’m retired than when it was my business. I have limits, not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I like anthropology (human history), brain based science, how we learn, make decisions, human nature, the improbability of free will, etc. It spills over into whatever else I’m working on and it muddies up my journal for sure and likewise the blog. Those old Sumerians with their clay tablets and Cuneiform symbols didn’t have a clue as to where their creative energy would take us but I’m glad they got it started when they did.
Sometimes I need to clarify my Writer’s identity and this is one of those times. In 1964 as a 25 year-old college freshman I needed an outlet to vent some issues where there was no willing listener. I started writing with a purpose in a spiral notebook. A 40 year career in education followed and as my journal grew the writing improved.
After retirement in 2001 I became an itinerant storyteller, traveling anyplace and everywhere, still documenting my story, my spiral notebook had been replaced by an Apple laptop. In 2012 I summered in Halifax, Nova Scotia. My son and daughter in law requested (twisted my arm) that I convert the journal to a blog so they could keep up with me, know where I was and that I was alive and well. Me creating a blog has never been about writing for public consumption. I never stopped journaling and much of it made its way into my blog. The point is; most bloggers are trying to grow a following, I was not and I am not. Over the 12 years I've picked up a few followers but 7 or 8 hits on the same post is rare. Leaving a comment is a clumsy, unfriendly process so I have no idea who the visitors are, the website counts hits but doesn’t ID them.
In the 1990’s I belonged to a really good writer’s guild in Grand Rapids, MI where I was nurtured by some awesome writer/friends. Y2K came along, I retired and went on the road. But I had identified heroes like Nobel Laureate, Elie Wiesel who deftly proclaimed; “I write as much to understand as to be understood.” I make that same observation. My writing explores and shapes whatever is on my mind, whatever the voice inside my head gives me. If it resonates with someone else that’s fine but I do it for me. I write it, then edit, then revise and rewrite, by the end of the process it usually stands on its own legs but I own it. I’ve learned that edit/revision/rewriting is the long, hard work of making the piece work. I remember submitting first draft reports in college and wondered why I only got C’s; duhh! By now, anytime I review old work I make new changes as I see the need. Often I write stuff in the journal/blog that needs work but then I never get back to them. It's like traveling; it's about the journey, not the destination.
This is not a disclaimer, rather a clarification. It will need cleaning up but I doubt it gets it. The point here is: Since emerging from the Covid pandemic, I’m not happy with a lot of stuff that has gone into the blog, it’s like slow dancing. When the band stops playing and goes home, you are done whether you know it or not. So I’m not happy with some stuff I’ve done lately. Much of it is nothing more than process that needed to be written but not so much to be read. Still my kids know where I’ve been and when I’m back home again.
Academically I was a late blooming wall flower, not ready until I was 25. I experienced the joy of discovery for the first time and I’ve never been able to satisfy that appetite. I want to know everything there is to know and I study more now that I’m retired than when it was my business. I have limits, not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I like anthropology (human history), brain based science, how we learn, make decisions, human nature, the improbability of free will, etc. It spills over into whatever else I’m working on and it muddies up my journal for sure and likewise the blog. Those old Sumerians with their clay tablets and Cuneiform symbols didn’t have a clue as to where their creative energy would take us but I’m glad they got it started when they did.
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