Jan
16
5:45 AM and the delivery truck is dropping boxes of flowers on the transport trailer floor–whap, whap.whap, whap.whap.whap – – whap. Woke me up. Coffee brewed. Pen poised. Shaking head in amusement at self.
I write my absolutely best work at six in the morning, coffee in hand and pen in the other. I scribble notes, delete words and run with all manner of thoughts and mental–toys.
I love a good pen. I love the way it scratches across paper and I love the connection to the words and the creation of them. For me, it is the very essence of writing.
And theres not a chance in hell you could read any of it. I can barely re-read them and after 30 years of keyboarding, I no longer have handwriting. Indeed, I have graduated to the doctors stage of hand writing competency. Much I am sure to the chagrin of Harry Brindza, my grade 6–8 teacher who was determined to teach this lefty to write by ripping pages from my notes and making me rewrite them.
Having written my best blog, my best thought out, Im quite content to move on to the day. Somewhere, there exists a plan to type the note onto the blog. Sometime, someday, when I have a few minutes.
This seldom happens and I have notebooks full of those kinds of writing. Well I did. I regularly burn them to prevent them taking up space from my desk. Enter “Dictate” the voice dictation software. I have it and this is a perfect way to train it to my voice. In a “duh” moment, I realized I could have my cake and eat it as well. Write with my beloved pens and then post the notes relatively easily and train the software at the same time.
Yeah. I know. Pen= Dinosaur.
Youve heard of mixed-material arts? Mixed-martial arts?
Call me a mixed–media writer.
(All misplaced words are the result of Dictate and I figuring stuff out. He screws up the context and I screw up the proofreading.)
With thanks to Yvonne, for pushing me in this direction.