These past 12 months I have waded into the deep end of the pool. No, not quite. I jumped from a C-130 flying map-of-the-earth over tree tops, plummeting through the sky towards the restricted area of the lake. Sure there is a vast area of free swimming in waist high water that is populated by numerous swimmers, but where is the fun in that? No. That is not for me, I zero in on my target as the wind screams past me,a tiny ring of floating flags, amidst the giant lake of easy swimming. The target get closer and I reach back to pull my chute only to realize I left it at the cabin.
Too much whiskey.
I dove into the waters of higher education at 40 years old and despite early doubts I am faring quite well. Sure I am labled “the old scary guy” on campus but that doesn’t bother me. Now I am treading water in the “Author’s Only” section of the deep end.
Why is it surrounded by red warning flags adorned with skulls and ominous words like “Danger” and “Turn Back Now”?
Part of this insanity of becoming an author in today’s world is apparently the requirement of having and maintaining a blog. I was just crazy enough to think that would be the easy part. I had no idea.
Supposedly, blogs are used to gain an audience. To find the other depraved souls who seek to mutilate themselves upon the alter of literature in hopes of attaining the lofty status of “Published.” Cue the chorus of angels and trumpets floating happily amongst the clouds.
I. had. no. idea.
Really, I didn’t. It seems everyone and I mean everyone has a blog these days. Authors and Artists have blogs. Political analysts and enthusiasts have blogs galore. Mechanics and maids, even the Loyal Order of Mechanical Manure Separators has a blog of their own.
Where am I going with all this? Nowhere, just treading water.