Time-Lapsed Ramblings

Listening to: Guy Clark – “Maybe I Can Paint Over That.”
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Okay. I’m here. I’ve been meaning to come here for a while but have been dragging my feet. I need the exercise and discipline of a journal.  And I love blank books and good pens that glide across the page.  But the reality is that I don’t sit down and write on paper for pleasure much these days, unless you count grocery lists or post-its.

So a blog might be a solution.  My friends have them.  Janice, Mary Mikel, the Susans (Hanson and Albert).  I am a loyal reader. A subscriber.  I “take” their occasional blogs, as folks say in small towns when talking about The Paper.

Yes. If you are reading this, you probably know that I spent a long time as a  journalist, photographer and jill-of-all-trades. I was the Features Editor at an almost daily newspaper.  Actually called the Neighbors Editor (which was a step up from Women’s Editor,  but I kind of  wanted to sound a little more uptown than that.

That was sort of like writing a blog. In addition to posting the engagement announcements and editing submitted wedding write-ups (who knew Alencon lace could be spelled so many different ways), and getting the obituaries in on time, I had free rein with filling the rest of the section. And so we wrote to amuse ourselves, and garnered a few loyal readers and some state and national writing awards along the way in spite of ourselves.

“All the news that fits, we print,” was an in-house saying among the three of us who made up the Neighbors Section. Gardening, adventures, book reviews, photo essays, interviews with famous or not-so-famous people, and self-indulgent columns about whatever popped into my mind were the order of the day. It was the best of….

I left that gig to take a dream job as editor of an edgy alternative newsmagazine. Politics, entertainment and social commentary was the order of the day. It really was the best of times,  great staff,  incredible writers (including the gang who came with me from the almost daily)  and an appreciative publisher who savored every word. After a while, the economy sunk that paper and began hitting print journalism in general.   I  fell into a municipal grant-writing job which led to the most unlikely day-job that I hold today. (I will blog about this unlikely match sometime,  so watch for details).

Somewhere along the line, I quit having deadlines for writing off on tangents and rambling about whatever crossed my desk or my mind. And I miss it.

And so. Okay. I’m here. I am not promising much in the way of regular writing  or deadlines- or even much of interest to the masses. In sort of a stream of consciousness, I plan to write about  the most ordinary things like  backroads and graveyards, great love and baseball bats,  good music, quiet moments,  keeping score, getting the shot and taking a chance.

Once in a while, I might stumble across something that catches your eye. And you are more than welcome to hitch yourself to my wagon and come along.
                                                   ____________
Disclaimer: If  you quickly grow weary of personal blogs, go ahead and quit reading immediately. Really, this forum is first for me, and then for anyone who has the time or inclination to read it. I am not sure how it works, and don’t know if you can really “unsubscribe” but you can avert your eyes.