Every so often I lose interest in the internet. Sudden. Total. Zero. Interest.
I might rouse myself enough to go to Facebook and harvest crops on my Farmville farm.
Leave the land fallow, because I won't be back for some time. Consider myself lucky I'm not a real farmer.
I'll come here, to this blog, and check out my favourite blog links. But I don't comment, because I don't have anything to say.
After that I come back here. Look at the last post I put up - and know that it's time to post something new. But wha?
I have no writerly news. The crime book is coming along fine. Got a rejection recently for a story that everyone loves but no one wants to publish. And so on.
My personal life is not up for blogging about. Yes, I do have good sex but I don't necessarily think that's something anyone else really cares to know. I mean, really, so what?
These days I don't seem to even have opinions that are strong enough to need an outlet. Sometimes I read the hot-under-the-collar postings of other bloggers and smile and think, 'She's so young.'
Well, there it is. My state of mind. Which I think is just fine, just not huge fodder for blogger. And again - I mean, really, so what?
So What
by Marylou Smithers
Oil on canvas
