I have been writing this all my life. It has taken this long because I have had to learn many things.
This has been written again and again. The word count must top a million, several million, crumpled into wastebaskets, recycled, deleted, burned and stirred into the fire, stored away deep in my memory and distant lockers, lost on failed computers, always technology makes it easier to write, and yet always it gets increasingly difficult.
Words shoveled into the abyss.
Writing, now, has never been easier. Think back to when words had to be chiseled into stone, impressed into clay tablets, drawn onto papyrus scrolls. Now, open laptop and begin.
It has never been easier - or, at the same time, more difficult.
You see it in the trove of countless books, shop Amazon, more books published daily than you could read in a lifetime - none of which would you care to read. They need a distillation - days, weeks, years, decades, centuries even - the best - you can hope - will float to the top, will be judged or juried, appear on X or Y's bestseller's list, will be recommended by So & So or discussed on a favorite radio, tv show or podcast.
Now, time to add my voice to the choir, to bang my head on the wall, take the millions of words I have written, the hundreds of streams of thought I have written down, forgotten, destroyed or mislaid, written down again, and yet again forgotten, destroyed or mislaid, again to remember, chip away at it, give it shape, some substance or form, bring it to fruition.
Acknowledgements: The Vancouver & Nelson Public Libraries, which provided a quiet respite and place to concentrate.
And the rest? Well, you know who you are.