I've had a few people give me compliments on my writing on here. As much as I appreciate them, I am far to critical to acknowledge them. I read a lot. And I do not feel that my writing would be, at best, a pale comparison to some of my favorite authors.
My friend, Bling!, recently loaned me a book that I have been reading on my trip to Chicago. It's by Tim Cahill and is called "Pecked to Death by Ducks." I haven't ever read his work before, but I have been enjoying it. The book is divided into small, readable chapters with a near stream-of-consciousness writing style. It is highly entertaining, but go read it for yourself if you like that type of thing (hint - the title has almost nothing to do with actual ducks).
Still, in reading his work I fear that I am no where near as eloquent or descriptive in my style. I don't think people can truly get a sense of my thought process from reading what I write. I am not sure that *I* can even get a sense of my thought process. That lends me to believe that perhaps I have failed in being able to bestow upon the reader of this blog how I feel and think.
Maybe, secretly, on some level, I don't want to....and maybe I do. I am not sure that I have figured that one out, yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment