I read a lot of blogs, primarily those of writers. I probably read too many of them. But discovering the struggles of other writers makes me feel better when my own writing isn’t going well. Misery loves etc., etc.
I used to read the blog of a writer who had some prominence in my youth. He hasn’t done much in a long, long time and he spews a lot of anger toward publishers. He expresses it on a regular basis, then every couple of weeks he tells his readers how lucky he is because he has a great family, and the evil publishers and Internet trolls who are trying to destroy him can never touch that.
It’s a great sentiment, except that it’s delivered in the tone of a man trying to convince himself, as if he’s chanting a mantra to ward off monsters under his bed.
It makes me a little sad for him, and I’ve decided not to check in on his page as often as I had. I'm sure the gentleman in question is working through some important and long-festering issues, and I wish him all the best with that.
I bring this up to ask a favor: if I ever get mopey and self-pitying here (and face it, we all have our moments) and I go on too long about it, you have my permission to smack me in the head.
Now, since this was a decidedly unfunny subject, here’s a local news reporter who tries to say “asphalt” and says “asshole” instead: