Something Else Writers Love

Irony.

As in, on January 7, you have the effrontery to call yourself a "writer" AND THEN YOU DONT WRITE ANYTHING FOR THE NEXT EIGHT MONTHS.

Well, that's not entirely true; I have been writing in my journals, but I'm not sure that counts, since they are never likely to be published (especially if I burn them before I die, or ask Mrs Beazly to do so aferwards, providing she outlives me).

I took a hiatus from all my column writing jobs in mid 2014, and co-authored a book in 2015, which was supposed to be published in 2016, but that didn't happen for reasons too numerous to list here. And now, here we are in the latter half of 2017. How does this happen? Is life going this fast for everyone else?

Anyhow, did you ever see the movie Amadeus? At one point, someone asks Mozart how he is prorgressing on a composition he'd commissioned. Mozart has nothing to show on paper, but assures the client that it's entirely written... in his head. I'm not remotely like Mozart in any way, but I can still relate to that sentiment. That's where I've been blogging (and column and novel and non-fiction writing) for the last 7.8 months: in my head. I did not intend to take all this time off. It just kind of happened. I thought of lots of blog posts, but somehow they were never written. Maybe they still will be (though the one from the fourth Sunday of Lent, "Better Laetare Than Never," might be a bit outdated by now).

 But as the new school year rolls around, maybe it's time for a fresh start. Lots has been happening in my life; perhaps it's time to share with the five or six DOH readers who aren't related to us by blood or marriage. Please stay tuned.

Like that guy said in that Monty Python movie, "I'm not dead yet."
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