Am I taking the easy way out by blogging about the fact that I can’t think of anything to blog about? Dan Fader, who wrote wonderful books and was one of my creative writing teachers at U-Mich long ago, said this when asked how to deal with writers’ block: “You sit. And sit. And sit. And sit. And sit. And sit. And sit. And sit. And then you sit some more.” Of course, in those days, no one was tempted to interrupt the sitting with Facebook, Twitter, or — oops, just got an IM, and it’s about good writing! My correspondent saw a T-shirt that read: Punctuation Saves Lives!
But I digress (a fun, underused word, btw). The question is whether blogging equates to real writing. After all, my editor (me) hasn’t set any deadlines or given me a fixed number of words for each entry. However, one firm rule still holds: KEEP THE PEOPLE INTERESTED. So enough navel-gazing about writing. Here’s an article about naked Englishmen and women working in their gardens. (Got yer attention now, ain’t I?) From a respectable mainstream newspaper too.
If anybody tried gardening sans coverup here in Atlanta, they’d get a severe case of sunburn and probably a disinvite to the local homeowners’ caucus. However, given our Georgia politeness, the conversation might go like this:
Neighbor leaning across fence (but not too far): “Mornin,’ Bob.”
Bob: “Yaaaaaahhhhhhiiightt?” (Southern for “Are you all right?”)
Neighbor: “Pretty good. I see you don’t have any clothes on today.”
Bob: “Guess those new glasses must be workin’ for ya.”
Neighbor: “Yep. Well, gotta run and stock up for the game. See ya.” (no pun intended here.)
Reading this stuff makes me understand exactly where Monty Python came from. From planting and pruning in the buff, it’s just a short step to confusing a cat.