This bloggerâ€™s lifeBy Wade Kwon
Writing has almost always been a part of my waking life. I feel lost without my laptop, or a pen and pad of paper.
I used to write tons of letters, the old-fashioned kind with good stationery and a packet of stamps. Now I write posts for the world to see, though my friends, not so much.
This site has been up for a little over six months, while my first site, Wade on Birmingham, hit the one-year mark Friday. Between the two sites, Iâ€™ve written more than 850 posts.
[Forgive me this one indulgence. I hate reading about writing, and yet, force you to do so.]
I typically read up online when I can, checking out fave news and entertainment sites daily. I read other blogs, though mostly local ones, and usually just skimming.
I have a running list of ideas, longer than Iâ€™ll ever get to, to write or produce on schedule. Whenever I get an idea, I write it down â€” or more likely, type it into the list. Thatâ€™s the only way Iâ€™ll keep track.
Some nights, Iâ€™ll reach deep down and pull out a mood, or an event, or a memory and run with it. I usually avoid riffing on current events, because I did it for so long at the newspaper.
â€œYouâ€™ve riffed on current events.â€ â€œAnd yet, Iâ€™ve never riffed on me.â€
The poems are about as close to stream of consciousness as I get. The rest is the joy/drudgery of writing.
Itâ€™s one take. I write it, I check it over for flow, typos and brevity and then, blammo (blammo?), itâ€™s live.
I can push myself to be funny when Iâ€™m not feeling funny. Or sad when Iâ€™m OK. Whatever the piece calls for, I can bring it most times.
I pull bits and pieces out of my hectic life to parade like so much scavenged refuse from the roadside. Itâ€™s all lying there, until I come along and snatch what no one else wants.
Look at my shiny sentences, cobbled from discarded words, to fill up screen after screen after screen.
I was here.