‘What’s the point?’ is a question I have asked several times recently.
I actually found the point one day, as I was pontificating about some thing or other, to you, right here on Bookwitch. It’s that I quite like writing. Not all the time, but if I can be a little silly, and far too often when I don’t really mention books.
When it is right, it is really right. Still. I merely need to steer clearer of being polite, say ‘no’ a lot more often, and well, hope for the best, really. My best. Your best.
So what I just did, was bin the pile of ideas I’ve hung onto for the last dozen years, almost not looking through them, or anything. OK, I might have glanced at some. And I kept a few. The rest went straight into the bin, because, let’s face it, if I have saved them since the beginning of time, they must be appalling. At the very least, not interesting.
A bit like me.