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At A Crossroads

This may be the last blog post I write for some time.

I haven’t run out of opinions. Good heavens! No! There are other reasons.

Time is limited. The older I get, the faster it flies by. There isn’t enough time for everything. There are really only two things I want to do: writing and art. And though blogging is writing, after a fashion, it isn’t the kind of writing I want to do. I want to write stories — flash fiction, short stories, novels, whatever.

Blogging is something I’ve primarily been doing because I should, not because it brings me joy. And there are enough other things I do because I should, like housework and cooking. I don’t want to waste whatever years are left to me, doing something I don’t want to do.

Do I really need to write another diatribe about idiot AIs that try to tell me my grammar is wrong because they don’t know the difference between a question and subjunctive mood? Or that, out of the 20 or so definitions for “butt” in the dictionary, they’ve selected the single colloquial use for a body part, deemed it a dirty word, and censored it out? I’ve learned to take everything my idiot AI step-child says with a heaping tablespoon of salt. Let that be the end of it.

I’ll still write the occasional review of a book I’ve read and loved. I read a lot, but not all of what I read is review-worthy.

I might sometimes blog about what I’m painting/drawing/creating with my graphics program. Maybe I’ll even post some of it. Everyone loves to show off their creative progeny, and I’m no different. But mainly, I’ll be creating it, not blogging about it.

Perhaps I’ll set myself up on Medium and flog my wares there. It may take a while to get momentum, but at least I’ll be doing what I love. Writing stories. With any luck, they’ll sell.

art, writing

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