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I love the feeling of fullness and satisfaction that comes after you've finished reading the final sentence of a book that you anticipated for a long time and which turned out to be completely worth the wait, when you slowly close the cover and hold the book in your hands, sitting still for a moment while your brain reluctantly returns to the present, leaving a small part of itself forever among the characters and events you've been so deeply involved in and with for the last however many days ago it was you plunged in and knowing that it will be a long time again before you can meet them once more and find out what happens next.

Up late reading and woke late this morning, to lie in bed and read some more. I read at the table while I ate (alone as my mother drilled it into my head how rude it is to read at the table when others are present) and after I'd fed the kids and then again when we returned home from an afternoon shopping in town. Anders is gone for the evening, out with the boys for dinner; a group of men that he grew up with and who have met for dinner every few months for something like 15 years. We moved around too often when I was very young for me to keep the friends of my childhood and years and distance have stretched thin the connections to the friends I've accumulated over time. Now my friends here and I are building something similar but our beginnings are not shared in the time before we were adults, with a knowledge of parents and families and school and growing pains and first loves and neighborhood hijinks to cement us together.

How do you decide what to write about when you sit down to journal or blog? I've written and deleted so many sentences and paragraphs in the past 15 minutes that I feel like my brain is on permanent backspace. It's so seldom that I sit down with a pre-conceived idea of what I want to say. Too often, it seems I just start typing and if I'm lucky (or you are, actually) I end up with something worth pushing the "Post Entry" button for.

Maybe I should have tried bulletpoints, eh, Sam?
mood: sleepy
music: Scissor Sisters—Mary


So what book was it???

exactly, I was wondering the same thing!

A Breath of Snow and Ashes by Diana Gabaldon :)

Heh! A Breath of Snow and Ashes by Diana Gabaldon


I write things I feel like writing about. An idea that pops up and a bell rings in my brain: "Ding dong - blog material!". And then I write it. Not that it has to be anything important or so, it can be utter nonsense really, but I just want to write it, so I do. :)


That happens quite often, but then when I sit down to write about, sometimes quite awhile later, I can't remember what it was! Argh.


Bulletpoints are great for those times where's there is stuff to say but no real coherent way to smush it into paragraphs. You've noticed I've done it very few times in my blogging life, but it's definitely handy.

I know how it feels to long for those friends that you've had ALWAYS - childhood friends, people you fought over Legos with - because I don't have a single one! Yet I love counting the number of years I've had the sweet friends I do have - and love that next year I'll have KNOWN Husband for ten years. Those numbers mean a lot to a military brat.

:) Sam

p.s. I love to read at the table. LOVE IT. Everything tastes best with a book!

It's so true! Everything does taste best with a book :) And this military brat totally agress with you :)

you're always good

first, I am SO glad you are feeling better, whew! second, I think your approach is the best way-- sit with an intention to write and nothing more and see what spills out-- at least for me, in the blog post land, that is best because if I were to stop and analyze what I was writing I would absolutely block EVERYTHING-- every last thing. and one thing I've learned, is the posts I feel are the most worthless, idle, silly or should've been deleted before seeing the light of day are often the ones people respond to the most. all of which is to say, we are not the best judges of our own output.

and, I'm glad Anders has this lovely ritual with his old friends but HE BETTER GET HIS BUTT HOME so you can go out and have time to yourself after all his traveling-- !

bisous, bp

Re: you're always good

It's true, isn't it, that we are so often our own worst critics?! Self-sabotage, I suppose or jantelagen.

Re: you're always good

Also, ya flatterer!! :D

it varies

I love that feeling the end of a book too. There is often an accompanying feeling of sadness. Sort of missing the book, the characters, the movement of the plot.

Sometimes I have a little idea, a thought, something from my day I want to share. Often (as you know) it is simply a list. Sometimes I have been inspired. Sometimes I have been writing about something else, a letter, a narrative time-line bit,; and I adapt it or just put in down here too. Often I don't post.

Re: it varies

That seems a really good way to go about it. I get a little worried that I often think, "oh! I want to write about that" but later when I'm actually in front of the computer there is nothing there, nothing left...a total blank. Stupid memory.

Re: it varies

OK, first I'll ask my revealing question. (Revealing what you might ask? My ignorance I might answer.) And then I will respond to your comment.
1~(shh!) what's a bulletpoint?

2~See that crazed looking woman scrambling quickly off the bike path into the red car? Now she's digging around~ wow, throwing things around. She looks frantic and distressed!!?!!

Oh, she's writing~ wait, she's writing on an old wadded up dirty napkin that she probably got out from under the seat of her car. Yuck! What can be that important??

Well Liz, I just had to illustrate that I understand about the memory thing.

I try to carry little notepads in my car so that I can write down that item I saw at the department store or the bookstore that I want to consider buying later. Or things I remember as I’m in transit that I need from the grocery store but I won't remember when I get there. Or a reminder to make an appointment to get the tires rotated on the car.
These little notepads have a way of disappearing, getting taken into the house or the store and not returning themselves to the car. (As if they don't have feet) And then when I really need the pads of paper after a long walk when an entire journal entry wrote itself in my head all I can find is a wadded napkin that I must have missed last year when I cleaned the car.

I begin to have an inkling of what computer geeks mean when they say something about the computer being slow because it doesn’t have enough memory, only I’m thinking of me. I wonder how many gigs my brain has. (I probably just revealed ludite-like ignorance in that last bit)

Anyhow, to stop making a short story long, I sometimes jot down key words, thoughts, and ideas when I have them in order to jog my brain later when I have more than a napkin to write on, or for when I’m sitting in front of suzi q (my computer)

Re: it varies

I do write things down, but I think I trust my memory to be what it was, instead of admitting it isn't what it used to be. And your description of scrambling for a napkin really made me laugh :) I wonder how many gigs my brain has, too! Too funny :)


Yes! I know that feeling and it's happy and sad all at the same time. Vemod is a good (swedish) word to describe it. I am the only one I know that reads the same books I do (duh!), but it's so exciting when you meet someone else who has the same feeling about a story - it's almost magical. This summer I had some very in depth discussions about Harry Potter with my 12 yr old niece, and it was soo fun.

Regarding what to write. I don't know. I write for myself mostly, although it is nice to see that people are reading. I have letters from my mom when I was a child, and I have always treasured those just for the glimpses of insight they provide me. Maybe my writing will do the same for my son - who knows?

Final thought. Your sentences are so well turned out Liz, you should be pleased. I like that you write with such feeling, that I really get a sense and a picture in my head of what you are telling me. It's always fun to come over here..

AngelaM (threecrowns)


Haha! Even though I was the queen of run-on sentences here?! :)

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I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

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