I took a little time yesterday and read a few of my old entries. The last 25 to be exact. I really enjoyed it. I found some typos that I’d missed on my final edit the first time around, and I corrected ‘em. They were minor, and easily missed, and there were only 4 in 25 entries. That’s a pretty good average, I’d say.
I enjoy reading what I write. I don’t know if that’s one of those “wrong things to say” kind of things, but I’ll say it, anyway. If more people wrote the way I do I’d probably read more. That’s definitely one of those “wrong things to say” kind of things, but I said it. It’s okay to disagree with it; I encourage you to write the way you like to read, too.
Since I’ve started this foray into dedicated daily entries, for the entire month of June, I’ve had two other people tell me they’d love to start a blog. I’ve encouraged them. I’d like to help them get started. I hope they have great success, however they define it. I hope they scroll back to their old entries and enjoy what they see. I’d hope that they hope that others write like them so that they can enjoy what others write, too.
Have I belabored that point?
Honestly, it’s Sunday and I’m on limited sleep and I didn’t feel like getting up and putting in my 400 words before church, so I’m just filling in blank spaces on empty paper so I don’t have to buy the beer.
You knew that, didn’t you?
But let me be honest for a moment. Another moment, I mean. Because what I said above was entirely true, in every way. I love reading my old entries. There were some typos. I fixed them. I wholeheartedly encourage people to write and share. The two people who have said this week that they want to start a blog are clever and dear to me. I can’t wait to see their stuff.
But the other honest thing I was going to say is that I look at my writing like poetry a little bit. I may not have something to say all the time but I endeavor to say it in the most ornate way. It’s art to me.
Poetry.org defines poetry as “an art form in which human language is used for its aesthetic qualities in addition to, or instead of, its notional or semantic content.”
See, even if you didn’t understand all the words in that definition it’s a beautiful use of the language.
I like to take language, take simple moments in time, and write something aesthetically and semantically pleasing about it. I do it in sentences and paragraphs instead of stanzas. I make purty.
Or, at least, I try to.
Whether or not I succeed is the judgement of the observer, just like any art.
So, those are the things that went through my head as I read my own stuff. If you’d like to do Tom a favor, and you find yourself with some time, go back and read some of the ones you’ve skipped. Read them for their flavor more than their content. Let me know how I did. Even if you didn’t agree with the opinion, or care for that day’s topic, did I make you smile? Did I create something artful with my use of the language? Did I create something awful instead?
That’s what I look for when I go back. I can be biased, so your opinion means even more to me than mine does. I hope you find that you liked it enough to want to read more. Or I hope you hate it enough to tell me so. Either comment improves Tom, being Tom.
Okay, so I went and filled a blank page with more than 700 words without really meaning to. I apologize for that, and hope to do it again tomorrow. I hope you read it. If you don’t, I will punish you with another 700 the next day. It’s what I do.
I’m the energizer bunny of semantically poetic prose. The irresistible force of lethal literary illumination. The juggernaut of jargon.
I’ll stop there. You deserve better. 😉
Have a great Sunday, friends!