but are they trite? Overdone?
Which leads me to exploration and reflection. Why do I want to write? For me? For money? For the exercise of the muse? For a diversion? For middle school boys, who have very few authors that target their demographic? For glory? For fame? For spite?
I started this blog because I have no discipline. That went by the wayside a long time ago. Too many excuses. Now I have something to "report" to, if I send this link to my friends. If.
Money, of course, would be nice. So would reaching the height of five-foot-two, but neither will happen-at least any time soon.
As a (former?) teacher, getting most young men to read is like getting them to wear a pink frilly shirt; they'll do it, but grudgingly, and they'll ditch it at first chance. Lupica and Salisbury hold their attention, but there needs to be more.
Spite. I'm good at that. That's where fame and glory come in. I don't want to be recognized physically, but I do want to be recognized in the terms of success-is-the-best-revenge-type recognition. Base as that is, it is what it is.
As for the muse, the diversion, and the like-I guess I will just have to write and see.
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