Behind the chatty face, and natural warmth with which I greet the world I am a private man, who still cherishes his treats and those he loves, and all my small routines, and old shirts, and . Well you know what I mean.
Sometimes I get an idea. It will come to my mind like a small treat, or a little pebble, a meaty bone or some strange shiny thing and I will look at it in wonder. Pick it up and grasp it with my teeth, Is it hard enough ?. Tap the table top and listen for the sound. Roll it on the floor and see how far it will go. Explore its every facet with my mind, and revel in each new insight thus revealed. Then I will talk of it, normally to my partner, till her eyes glaze over and I see that the end of the tether is now some distance from her person.
“Why do you go on about it” she might say.” I’ve already understood you” I tend to smile and return it to my thoughts but now silently, I will pick it up again. Roll it around and listen for the sound it makes . My curiosity about it can know no bounds and I will ruminate on, investigate and ponder over it until every morsel of nourishment has vanished from its centre. Never discarded mind. These treasured thoughts are carefully packed away to claim my imagination when time allows
Solitary people, with solitary pasts do this all the time, talking with themselves and creating private pleasures out of dust. As long as we don’t make a fuss we can imagine peace. But is that what writers do? Do they ruminate in private on a page,: thoughts later discovered in a printed form, Perhaps the world comes knocking at their door and they. startled and mentally ill at ease will talk at length about what made them write. Some more polished marketeers will smoothly move before a camera’s eye and reel off some well rehearsed ad-libs, but many are not so prepared.
I am not a writer in any professional sense. At the last audit of CountingDucks (Uk) PLC the revenue under the heading “ creative work” was. Hang on a sec, I can’t quite see what it says here. Oh yes, nothing or zero if you want to be technical, . but there you go. I love writing. It is a key pleasure of my world. But how could I, who get my pleasure from these little whimsies stored up in my head, actually turn them into something that others might enjoy apart from the Albanian of course, and you my loyal fellow Blogadiers. That is something that baffles my small brain.
Recently I have started reading a book given to me by a cousin which is crammed with contacts and good ideas. Nothing ventured and nothing gained etc. In some senses I feel like a hungry man who strays into a vast hall where a mob is baying for nourishment, jostling and shoving to get near the dishes, so my humble request for a sausage sandwich , uttered from far back in the room, might not be heard.
I am saying nothing about my talent or lack of it . One thing I can say with absolute certainty. That I have come across Bloggers online who, when talking of their passion or events close to their lives can speak with a raw lyricism and use of words which stands comparison with many a famous name. More than ever, in modern times, the ability to market a talent is almost more important than to possess it, and this is where many people fail: I am in good company,
Never the less. I am determined to give the enterprise some attention. Is thinking too much, worse than not thinking at all I wonder. Oh no. Here I go again.