A Cluttered Desk Started it All

The other day I cleaned my old roll-top writing desk.  What prompted me to clean it was that I could no longer see the chipped and stained wood because it was littered with scraps of paper.  The desk was chock-a-block with notes and ideas for future pieces and character sketches, and I found a setting description for a novel I’m writing.  There were a few short stories, and a mess of fish/hunt ideas that hopefully would find a home somewhere someday.

My regular desk was filled up, too.  On it was body copy for eblasts, a content calendar for social media posts, text for press releases, drafts of editorials, spec creative and outlines for brochures.  While I tried to determine how I’d sort it I realized that we are living in a Golden Age of Content that remarkably resembled what occurred during the early part of the last century.

From the 1920’s through the 1950’s, writers, artists, illustrators, and designers were busier than ever.  Print media like books, magazines, and newspapers spread all the news that was fit to print.  Many towns published both morning and evening newspapers that communicated the local-regional goings on in a timely fashion.  Advertising grew in leaps and bounds and copywriters and commercial artists were hired in leaps and bounds.  Radio scripts were badly needed, and as film grew in popularity screenplays were in high demand.  Other types of writing were needed like plays for live theatre and text books for schools, but suffice it to say there was a tremendous need for content.

The digital age has reawakened that demand.  From websites to eblasts to ezines and youtubes and blogs, written and visual content is in high demand.  Read it on a desktop computer or in your car on your smartphone, there is no shortage to the volume of words and pictures that are consumed by audiences every day.  Everyone has a voice, and many are choosing to use them.  And like in the past, the better ones find themselves in high cotton.  Ours is a very exciting time indeed.

Timing is Everything

It’s late July and I took my English setter Rowdy for a pre-season workout. It’s been hazy, hot and humid, so our sessions are very early in the morning and then again in the evening. There isn’t anything more miserable for a setter wearing a fur suit than to run hard, so I pick the cooler times of the day for our training.

After her run we returned to the shade found in our front deck to cool down. I sat next to Rowdy while her huffing and puffing slowed, and I stroked her back. Every time I pet her a clump of white fur with brown spots pulled off. She was shedding.

Shedding normally occurs when spring becomes summer. The continuously rising temperatures combined with the increased daylight trigger their hair disassociation. For whatever reason Rowdy missed shedding earlier in the year. Her fur was falling off in big clumps at a time that was approaching the autumnal instead of the spring equinox.

I told my wife about it as she passed me a curry comb. Every three strokes filled up the comb to a point where I needed to clean it, and then it was back for more. In short order there was about as much dog hair as would fill up a small pillow. If we were in Colonial times we’d save it and stuff a mattress or use it to patch a hole in a wall.

And it occurred to me that Rowdy’s shedding fur was a lot like good writing. Some times it happens when I want it to and sometimes it does not. The game is long. Patience is key as is knowing when the time is right. I think that’s called Grace.