Sometime over the next two or three weeks the counter will flip and I will have written more than three hundred posts. Non fiction mostly with a solid count of poems. Enough to fill a book, which is incredibly shocking.
I wasn’t much of a writer, I still remember going to the Dartmouth bookstore, having been told by my master’s advisor to buy a copy of Strunk and White, a true classic on writing. It stressed not using empty words and phrases, being direct and using the active voice.
According to WordPress there are about 160 people following this, and more on LinkedIn that it doesn’t track. I’m bemused by these statistics, and the ones in Facebook too.
I started and continue to work at this mostly to boost all my trans friends, those few I know and the many I don’t. I ponder reshaping the material into a book, but I’m not at all convinced it would be more than vanity to do so.
I have done almost nothing to promote this. Some handed out business cards, and a single ad in Facebook promoting a post. Should I do more? Will this be my avocation in retirement in four or more years?
I adore getting comments, especially from those who I am fortunate enough to touch. I’m humbled that I’ve managed to help them in their struggle and I hope I continue to do so. Yet I also benefit, this being a form of journaling for me. A forum where I can share my introspection on life, albeit there are topics I must be discrete about, or even write something that hits my reality more obliquely.
I hope those who read the posts continue to find value and share those you find especially good, when my muse has somehow inspired something of value.
Thank you all for reading my scribblings and helping to make my life more meaningful.