I Hope I Can Write This

Something is bothering me. It has to do with words. Though I’m a word person, I’m concerned that I may be calling the kettle black as I write this. But It won’t let me go. It has to do with cussing. So here goes.

Ever since I was a kid the F word was a no no in polite company. It was like the most disgusting word you could use. I never had the guts, but I heard that the soap came out and some of my friends were bubbling at the mouth before they knew what happened when they dared to use it. Now I know we were kids, but that word wasn’t heard when there were women around. Just didn’t happen. In fact, if some ruffian deigned to speak it when somebody’s wife stood there, it was a fightin’ word.

Okay, fast forward. Bake and I are out for a nice Valentine’s dinner and the table across from us is graced with a dude who can say the F word two or three times in one sentence, loudly. He had other talents, too, but this is about cussing.

angry man
Photo by BROTE studio on Pexels.com

I couldn’t help it. I looked up how long the F word has been around. Since 1475! In all those years it was saved for impolite company. Well, until lately. Now I know, there are lots of cuss words, and Facebook will attest that I have said at least one myself, darn it. But I think we’re losing ground when the big F loses the impact it used to have. When the young folks tell me that it means nothing.

It doesn’t mean nothing. Words have meaning. And I, for one, would like to see that one return to the darkside. Okay, I’ve said my piece.

Writers could be crazy?

Writers are never satisfied. Put it down for a while, pick it up again. Read it aloud to someone, and you are back in process, revising forever. It’s like a disease! And there is no cure.
Bake says there comes a time when you have to stick a fork in it and call it done. Well, I don’t know when that time might be.
Well, maybe after it’s a published piece. However, I’ve seen a lot of second, third, fourth, etc. editions. Isn’t that the writer back in process?
Of course, if you have to have a disease, revision is a pretty good one to pick. It doesn’t give you a fever, spots on your tongue, or immobilize you in any way. It lets you drink copious amounts of coffee, blurt astonishing comments whenever you want, and jump out of your chair, ranting, “I just can’t sit here another minute!”
OK, I’m rereading this to see whether it needs to be revised. Lord help me! I have to go garden now, it balances me. After that I’ll come back and revise the thriteenth chapter of Nellie for the umptiumpth time!