Wednesday, November 3, 2021

Dead Bloggers' Society

Someone I work with is retiring. Technically, I am his boss, but it is ridiculous that I am anyone's boss, and it is especially ridiculous for me to be the boss of this person, who knows much more than I do. Anyway, we talked yesterday about his decision to retire. He hopes to write or make videos (or both) about his area of expertise. I told him that I write every day, but that I haven't had any time to do anything with any of my writing, other than to post it online. People will read it or they won't. Once I hit the "publish" button, it's out of my hands. 

After years of writing, and at least four years of writing every single day without exception (7 days a week, 365 days a year), I have tons of essays, blog posts, random paragraphs, and draft novels (three). It won't be long before I am old enough to retire, so maybe I'll try to polish some of this stuff, and turn it into something worthy of real publication. Or maybe I won't. I think about the possibility of being a real author, and I don't really know if it's for me. I don't love attention. I don't mind being obscure. Everyone who needs to know me already does. Maybe I will make my children publish my work after I die. Posthumous fame is probably the only kind that I would ever want. 

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