Sitting on an iceberg
Just watched some guy sitting on an iceberg, happily. Dressed for success, in his briefs. Boy, the conditions in his house must be really cold! This is not a rant about the weather. I have that part under control. My parka, my boots, my unflinching belief that summer will be here, on schedule.
Let’s look at something else. How about votes? Today, in Crimea, the qualified electorate decided (by a tally of 95%) to rejoin Mother Russia. They’re celebrating. The Canadian government; not so much. As early as tomorrow “we” will put economic measures in place to punish those who take orders from Moscow. I’ll keep reading, in case I missed something about this story that changes the colour. After all, I thought that democracy was what “we” wanted.
I’m still working through the book I received as part of the family gift exchange during the holidays. Here’s the thing: the book is composed of hundreds of editorials by a local writer, each one a complete entity. And they are so well written that I can’t handle more that a handful per session. Too much food for thought. Today, a compare and contrast between the writing of a novel and the writing of a chronicle (blog post, if that helps). In the eyes of the public, one good story weighs much more that the hundreds that a blogger might produce over a certain period.
I haven’t started on my great novel, yet. Until my story line is clear, I’m content to generate this amount of content. Each And Every Day.
