I Do My Best Writing Online

It's official. I've made the determination. I do my best writing ... online.

I've been all over the place the last few weeks, mostly down and out. It looks like I've dropped out. And I probably have.

But there's one thing that is my saving grace, the great ability I have to write and share my most profound thoughts with folks online. Thank you for your wonderful encouragement. You don't know what it means to me.

I've tried to write other places. And some of it's good. I won't say it's not. But it just doesn't resonate with the same vibrancy that I always get when I'm writing online.

I took a tablet and pencil over by the well and sat there, with my back actually against the tree. I looked down at a blank sheet of paper. The paper looked back. I wondered who was going to make the first move. Because it wasn't going to be me. And it didn't look like the paper had any plans. So we just sat there.

I thought, if I just sit here and pretend I'm writing online, something will surely come to me. I sat there so long and started getting so uncomfortable I had to get up and reboot my legs. You notice every twig, every seed, every pebble under your hind end when you're sitting outside. Nature doesn't keep good house.

I thought I could write about that, but it seemed like too much process and not enough content. It's like writing on the tablet what the tablet looks like. Boring.

So I got up, dusted off my fanny, and went over by where we used to have the outhouses. It's been years ago, and we had a few different outhouses (one at a time of course), and we would have it in one place till that hole filled up, in like a year or so, then Grandpa would dig a new hole and we'd move it over it. Those outhouses moved around so much sometimes it was hard to find the toilet at night!

Now we don't have them, of course, but I was thinking maybe there'd be some good vibes in that vicinity. Some of my family's best thinking over generations took place in that roughly 20 yards x 20 yards space. So I took a lawn chair over and sat there with my tablet, but the only thing I could think of was how fertile the ground around there probably is. In distinction to my mind, which wasn't the slightest bit active and alive. It wasn't online.

Instead of being inspired I kept thinking how the Internet ruined me for tablets. Plus, what am I going to do with a filled in tablet? Read it over myself at night? What kind of sharing is that? I think I really get off on the idea of other people reading my musings. I believe I have fans in more than one country. Places I haven't been, since I've never been anywhere except America.

Anyway, if I fill in a tablet, at some point I will feel like transcribing it online -- to help keep my readers occupied -- and if I'm going to do that, I may as well cut out the middleman and simply write it online in the first place.

So that's what I'm doing. I'm doing it even now, as I type. Isn't that wonderful? And it's quite a flow. You're getting the first draft of history. The rough draft from my suddenly fertile little mind.