But suppose nobody reads what I post: There's still the benefit that comes from practicing your craft. If the author doesn't screw things up too badly, he might improve. But I haven't done any posting in quite a long while. My blog muscles have turned to mush. Maybe that's a story onto itself. Why can't a disciplined fellow like me hold to a simple task? And maybe I should tell you about it some day. But not today. To make myself post and post frequently, I need to pick up some tiny subject and write about it quickly. I'll show you something, and you can say, "Oh my, isn't that interesting?" Or, "Tedious is too soft a word for this self-absorbed bullshit."
I have been a money-making author for more than thirty years. I accept that both of those responses are guaranteed, as well as polite shrugs and total indifference.
But here's your glimpse at my mind:
Dismantle brush pile
It's Sunday, and we're having lovely April weather in early March. I started a to-do list in Google Keep, and the first item came out with an interesting tone. So I just kept inventing unexpected ways of defining very ordinary tasks.
I won't explain any of them, but the "Start talking" offering.
And no, it's late afternoon, and I haven't done more than a few of these chores.