Editor's Note: S.D. Smith is the author of the short-story serial The Fledge Chronicles (which runs in West Virginia South) and the forthcoming speculative fiction novel Shadwell. He was recently named a finalist for the West Virginia Fiction Award. He blogs about writing, fiction, humor, family and other miscellany at SDSmith.net. When not scratching away with pad and pen, he likes to spend long hours in his backyard practicing whiffle ball in hope of making the American team for the 2012 Olympics.
Loren’s posts are always precise and useful. He is really focused and clear. I hate that about him.
Actually, I’m just jealous. I, myself, am not all that precise. Precisely off-target, perhaps. It takes all kinds, or so a man who quoted other people all the time once said. So what can I offer in the absence of Loren Eaton, who is probably off somewhere having more fun than me right now, precision and all?
Loren gives good advice and interacts well with outside content. I’m not too good at that. Man, this is depressing so far.
I am, like the song says, the son of a preacher man. My dad always used to tell me that he couldn’t preach like Billy Graham, but Billy Graham couldn’t preach like him either. (For my money, my dad is a better preacher. But, it must be allowed, I am a little bit stupid.)
What is the point of my incoherent, imprecise rambling? Simply that I, Sam Smith, don’t have to be like Loren Eaton. You, Mister Readerperson, don’t have to be like Sam Smith, or Jellybean Highfive, or anyone else you are forced to read because the real Loren Eaton has abandoned you to the flotsam and jetsam of the ruin of blogdom. (I refuse to say "blogosphere").
If you are a writer, then write. Take joy in the gifts you have, and the subcreative authenticity only a person like you could produce.
Don’t try to be the next whomever. That is precisely what you shouldn't do.
(Picture: CC 2005 by niznoz)