I fear I’ve gotten lazy in my writing. It’s a habit picked up from my journals, no doubt, wherein I pretty much spew out the straight facts in a very predictable, flat, and droll fashion. No more. This literary complacency is putting me to sleep and if it’s doing that to me, the author, heaven knows what it’s doing to you, dear reader. Before you read further, could you please sign a waiver releasing me from any ill side effects? Liability can be beastly these days.
Writing well is certainly harder but it’s worth it — it’s like plucking a juicy grape fresh from the vine, savoring its delicious goodness before it slides down the chute into culinary rehab. It’ll probably take a few attempts before I get rid of this prosaic drivel that’s dampened my words, but it will happen.
[tags]writing[/tags]
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