Yes, I can hear the clowns in the back row whispering, “Yay, the old duffer’s finally going to shut up.”
Not happening.
Yet, there are days when a writer is stuck in pure nothingness, a place where–counterintuitively–there is room for everything. And that’s the problem. Like many, I’m overwhelmed by the scope of everthing. Everything has simply become too large and that tends to make us feel too small. One can hide from the size of everything and how small s/he feels by talking constantly or running off at the thunbs, i.e., texting.
I’d rather just be quiet and think of nothing. When I clear my mind and think of nothing, I begin to relax, to go with the flow (as we used to say), and soon I am coping with everything without the angst and the smallness that usually go with it (everything). I’m amazed at how few people have discovered silence, or how wonderful it feels when you feel no need to fill that silence with talking.
And, as we see, the old song is right, that people are talking without speaking and hearing without listening, so I have come to believe that silence is safer and more sane and a more effective method of coping with everything on our figuratively plates than talking/texting ourselves into oblivion (real or imagined).
There are days, and this is one of them, where I think those who follow this blog will be better off keeping quiet rather than contemplating anything I could possibly say there.
As an older generation read in Desiderata, “GO PLACIDLY amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”
Christine Carbo
Meanwhile in northwest Georgia, we’re getting more rain than we need with a potential for flash floods. I hestitate to mention it because a soaking rain is a tempest in a teacup compared with the weather on the Gulf coast.
Ding. “Oh Christ. it’s the Bakers and they brought their daughter Chrissy with them.” Every time the Bakers came over, Chrissy’s attitude was, “I don’t want to be here.” “The feeling was mutual,” I wanted to say, in fact did say it by pretending she wasn’t in the room.
I’m highly attuned to prospective signs and omens–or, supidly superstitious. So, I think it’s a bad sign that Ida ploughed into Louisiana on the anniversary of Katrina. Ida’s going to cause a mess; that’s from the Weather Channel. Somebody saw Jim Cantore. That can’t be good. We may get some rain from the storm here in North Georgia on Tuesday.
Sad to see that Ed Asner died. He was my favorite character on the “Mary Tyler Moore Show.” The series had a great ensemble cast and some very good writers.
COVID has found numerous ways to mess up publishing. Ingram has announced that there will be delays and shortages in the fourth quarter. We rely on them for our hardcover copies. Also, places that normally would have reviewed Fate’s Arrows by now, still haven’t done it. So, naturally, sales are down; many writers have seen this during the pandemic.
NPR Poll: 
