Wouldn't that make a nifty title for a story about a crane that couldn't lift things? Sort of a parody of the Little Engine That Could. Or maybe it could be called The Little Crane That Couldn't.
Why? What did you think this was gonna be about?
Ha! Sometimes I crack me up.
I was away for a couple of days and came back to the usual 125 or so emails, about 90 of which were junk. As I deleted the junk, most of which seemed to involve suggestions for the improvement of my manly bits, the phrase I used in the subject line leaped into my brain. I had to do something with it.
I've decided that blogging is a Very Good Thing. It's re-awakened a love that's lain dormant within me for decades - writing just for the plain fun of it. I think most writers start that way. But somewhere along the path towards, and beyond publication, the sheer love of playing with words begins to dissipate. We become consumed with the mechanics - crafting and polishing and rewriting and submitting and dealing with rejection and re-submitting.
Then, one day, we "make it!" We sell stuff and editors want more of the same and we're happy to provide it and then, somehow, someway - it becomes work.
Even my column, (Free! - Contact me for details!) which grants me lots of leeway, comes with constraints. Admittedly, they're self-imposed but they're constraints nonetheless. Folks have come to expect a certain tone, a certain length, a certain feel.
It's been ages since I wrote because I dang-well felt like it.
I think I might get used to it.