DAILY PROMPT: BLOGGER IN A STRANGE LAND
What’s the strangest place from which you’ve posted to your blog? When was the last time you were out and about, and suddenly thought, “I need to write about this!”?
Blogging for me is a mostly a laptop-on-the-table job. THE table. The only one I have, neatly positioned for the optimum view across rooftops and through trees to my particular piece of Pacific.
It’s a bit of comedown for this table. In its glory days, it flaunted itself in damask and silverware and elegant crystal, extended its arms for family Christmases, and went on to perform similar service for a friend of my daughter’s. But when it returned to me, times had changed. Pretensions of elegance were long gone and the family was too numerous to sit at any table smaller than those found in baronial banqueting halls. Such is life even for a table, and really, it should count itself lucky to be my desk rather than suffering the ignominious fate of its chairs, gnawed beyond redemption by something unidentified during a period of storage.
So yes, that’s where I blog. But it’s not necessarily where I’m struck by those ‘need to write’ moments. Goodness knows what I’d find in the glove box of my car, scribbled on old envelopes or squeezed onto the backs of shopping dockets. Once the itch has been scratched, I tend to forget it happened, and scraps of immortal creativity drift undiscovered in all sorts of unlikely places. The way I see it, if they have anything to say to anyone else, they’ll find their way there eventually. Not, I consider, a Helen problem.
More problematic is the fact that I write a lot in my head, and quite often – in the surf, for example – there are no shopping dockets to hand. This is particularly annoying when I manage to sort out the next step in an ongoing verbal maze only to find the hedges have regrown by the time I get home. It’s also hard to stop for a scribble when you’re doing 110 down the freeway with heavy transports on either side – although I have been known to write an entire radio script that way by dint of constant repetition.
Quite often, though, what I write in my head is better off not seeing the light of day. How many enemies can you make with uninhibited rants?