I have often thought about writing -- that is being a writer, but at
bottom, it always involved writing. I take good notes, I am an
excellent jotter of ideas, but very little finished product has left the
factory.
My problem has been one of commitment. If I
had a job of writing, I would do it. If someone asked me to write
something I would do it. But writing, surely, comes up from within. No
successful serious writer did it for money or for public approval.
They all sat alone in a room and thought quietly and deeply over a pen
or typewriter or word processor.
This message is a commitment. I am publicly stating that Remembrance of Calamities Past is
now launched. It is a blog, by and about me. I will write longer
pieces twice a week and post a daily thought -- called a Woodicism.
Nobody may read it or like it, but what can I do?
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