So, like I got an email from a guy saying, "Dude, been missing your blog, you know?" My fan club, I let him down!
So, like the One and Only Squeeze came home from a craft "boutique" yesterday, and was hyper-pleased with herself at the gift she bought for me. It was a carved wooden disk. I'd say roughly 17.5% bigger than a silver dollar. Disks being round. Inscribed on the disk was "TUIT." "So, like, you think I'm a procrastinator?" asks moi.
Like, sometimes I can't take a hint. Generally though, I begin to get the message after three of them.
Like, I'm bloggin' already.
Anyway, recently I went to my favorite Apple store, the one with the big dove on a majorly big stick mall. Generally, I walk in, and the Apple Greeter, which is distinguished from the Walmart greeter by decades, hair color, and piercings, assigns me to an Apple Idiot. The greeters know they don't have to spend a genius on me. But, this was a newbie greeter. Hair color: natural. Piercings: none. And only one visible tattoo. Good taste precludes further description. Anyway, this newbie greeter, she didn't know me and assigned me to a genius. After we howdied, we talked about what I came in to find out, and I bought an external storage unit. Then he asked me if it was for a business. I told him I was a writer and asked if I had to be making money for my writing to be a business.
"Not a requirement," he assured me. He gave me the business discount. Then he told me he had started on a novel, but was hung up and unable to move it forward. He asked me, "What's most important, perspiration or inspiration?"
See, if he'd have been an Apple Idiot, he'd have said "sweat or inspiration."
Anyway, I repeated a few slogans I've had preached at me over the last couple of years. "ABC: Apply Butt to Chair." Lou from my writer's group said that. "Just write:" the theme of a recent Missouri Writer's Guild Conference. "Perspiration," I said, "is most important."
The Squeeze and I recently visited Italy. When we got back, she dug out "The Agony and the Ecstasy." She read it, then, "Read it," she said. It's a biographical novel (so okay, I took it with a grain of salt). And in the bio novel, Mikey found inspiration in history, the bible, what other artists had done. But he worked his butt off to find inspiration for his works of art.
Perspiration. That's the thing for wannabe writers, for artists, for musicians, for all God's children, I'm thinking.