Somewhere in my many notebooks of memorable quotes and notes, I have scribbled a witticism that states the only writers who are truly failures are those who fail to write. Ahem.. guilty as charged, your honor. Shall I begin my sentence* now or after penning a thousand times “I will not claim to be writer unless I can show my work”?
This weird and wonderful thing known as life has swallowed much of my writing time lately, but I’ve made a promise to myself and the universe that I will set aside time for this thing that I love to do. Just call me Rusty while I get back up to speed again. I promise that you’ll be rewarded with lots of annoying writing exercises, odd bits of
doggerel high quality verse, and perhaps another novel if I can find my editing hat amongst the unfinished manuscripts.
Thanks, as always, for your patience with my hit-and-miss posts. Until next time, hope you’re enjoying this long, hot summer.
*Bad pun most definitely intended.