OK. So here’s the thing. I tend to do stuff bass ackwards. Start something without a clue as to what I’m doing or plan to do.
This applies really only to writing. No, really. The rest of my life, I tend to try and keep as organised/organized as possible.
Well, maybe it applies to some other stuff. But look, I am trying. My wife says I’m very trying…
So I’m still working things out, trying to decide exactly what it is I’m going to do.
Most sensible people would have an epiphany (make mine low fat, please) and then start a blog. Not me.
And that’s another thing. I have a butterfly mind, sometimes when it doesn’t help to have one. Like when documenting something that’s covered by FDA regulations.
And when I say “mind”, I have to qualify that by saying that I refer to my excuse for a mind.
Look, who else would think – upon hearing the phrase Little Dorrit – what about Big Dorrit? What’s his/her story?
And off the neurons charge. Because of course, logically, if there’s a Little Dorrit there has to be a Big Dorrit. It stands to reason.
And if there’s a Big Dorrit, is s/he a hulking knuckle-dragger with a rumbling voice an octave below an elephant’s? And did s/he have to look after Little Dorrit in school, or was it the other way round?
We may never know. Although we might, if my urge to write a short story about Big Dorrit gets the better of me. The more so if my mental image of Mike Tyson in ringlets stays with me much longer.
And so it goes.