Some things have a clear start and finish, beginning and end, like a race, an ice cream cone, a song, a test, a day, a date, an earthquake, a tsunami, a revolution.

Other things don’t seem to have such clear time frames: you think about painting a room and somehow, you’re taking down plaster and lathe and 10 years later the room needs to be painted again. Or friendships: sometimes you don’t know when they begin or how they faded away into not being there anymore. A best before date. Or a book. The kind you seem to start a thousand times and can’t ever get past page 27.

I’m thinking about beginnings and endings because this is the 100th post of this blog. It’s a milestone. And like any milestone, I have stopped to consider how it is I got here and where it goes next, if indeed, it goes anywhere.

It started with curiosity and very little forethought, the start of this blog. I made up a silly name again and started to write. I was a bit concerned because I was writing for fun, for me, and about anything that struck my fancy, which is contrary to all the blogging rules.

Yes, well. Blogging rules for blogs that market about blogging to people who blog and who want to make money and get traffic to get noticed and get picked up and get rich quick. In other words, not a blog of mine.

I write because I write. It’s a thing I can’t not do, to quote some famous person. And I write in this place about things that don’t easily fit into other writering things, that bubble up to be written about in my writering process and time. Like little articles about lots of stuff, some serious, some not, some total fiction, some not, all about observations, questions that arise, things I learn, experience, wonder about, a few things that annoy or amuse me, and even some about writering. There is even a try at fantasy: the story about the animals. In light of recent world events, I might have to revisit that story and add to it.

One hundred posts, easily an output in the neighbourhood of 100,000 words. I’d CHOKE if I said to myself, start writing and don’t stop until you have about 100,000 words. I considered NaNoWriMo for oh, all of three minutes. Initially, it was not a consideration of the word count that I fretted about so much as it was about it being a month of novel writing. What kind of story would I write? Me? A novel? Yes, my name would be totally elegant on a book cover, but bylines are just fine, thanks. And then yes, how many words..??? I can give 5,000 words. Tops. (Sounds like a blood donation, doesn’t it?) At the end of that three minutes of consideration, it was a resounding, uh uh, no. Not for me this novel story-writing thing.

So at this milestone of 100 posts, it’s time to pause for the cause and figure out what to do next with this blog. Refine, refocus, redirect or resign. I promise to let you know the decision in post 101.


About FS

Toronto, Canada. Writing about slices of life, the moments and minor details of which come into awareness or out of imagination and the spaces inbetween.
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2 Responses to Perspective

  1. Terrisita says:

    Happy 100th blog post. Thanks for the intriguing insights, pithy parlance, clever copy, witty words, coy commentary, thought-provoking things, honest exhortations …all in all, …..all. Your particular take on all things language is amazingly deep and complex, rich and aromatic, smooth with an edgy bite…that comes together with a delicate froth of crema…heavens!! It sounds like I am describing a cup of espresso!! You are all that and a bag of biscotti, my friend. Can’t wait for 101.

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