It is probably not a good thing to begin any endeavor without asking for the Lord’s blessing. However I do forget, and did forget again when I started this blog.  So of course everything has gone wrong.  Therefore I’d best be late, which is supposedly better than never.

Oh Creator of me, bless my creation.

There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?

I likely should have done that fifty or so years ago, when I first became addicted to writing. After all, it takes some nerve to create in a creation made by a perfect Creator. By creating, am I not saying creation is imperfect, and needs improving? Or perhaps I’m merely stealing some thunder from the Creator of thunder?

What I enjoy doing is likely wrong, and, if not already illegal, will be made illegal by the next religion that comes along, (in the same manner drawing-a-human-figure is illegal in certain Islamic nations.) However the primary reason the creating I enjoy will be made illegal is because it is so much fun.

Writing got me in all sorts of trouble in school, which may seem odd. Do children not go to school in order to learn how to write? However I never was writing what teachers wanted me to be writing.

This may also explain why I’ve never made any money with my writing. However fifty years is long enough. By now I’ve proven I’m not writing for the money, and henceforth I intend to roll in the dough, casting golden coins gleefully left and right.

I plan to do this through sheer luck. This may not seem a very pragmatic and organized approach to becoming filthy rich, but sheer luck has served me very well, so far in my life.

Some may wonder how I can say that, after writing for fifty years without making money at it, (or else some might say my life is an example of sheer bad luck.) However one thing this blog will attempt to do is to show that what some might call bad luck is actually great luck, (if you are a good sport about losing, and cultivate an attitude of singing in the rain.)

On the other hand, we’ve all read stories about people who win a fortune in a lottery, and their life is ruined. However I’ll likely handle my vast fortune better, after I make it through this blog. Anyway, at my age I haven’t that much life left to be ruined, so the prospect doesn’t worry me much. Lastly, if I’m ruined, I’ll just sing in the rain.

So let me get down to the details of how I, the writer, intend to scalp you, the reader, of your hard-earned coins. (I figure the least I can do is be honest about it.)

What I intend to do is to offer a fair amount of good writing for free. However there will eventually be “for sale” writing as well, and in a sly manner I intend to get people hooked into certain tales, or merely curious about what is in a Pandora’s Box, and then, for a cheap price, they will be able to download one of those new fangled e-book thingys.

I’ve read that Charles Dickens wrote many of his books as episodes, which appeared in monthly magazines. Sometimes he wasn’t sure how a book would end, as the installments appeared. This idea appeals to me, partly because I enjoy the sheer panic of a deadline, and also because I like the idea of getting paid for something that isn’t finished. I’m not the best, when it comes to finishing what I start.

In my attic I now have fifty years worth of old stuff.  This blog will be a repository of yellowing papers. Some of the writing is actually good, and some is merely interesting to historians.  I’ll include better sections of my diary, which I started on March 24, 1962.  I’ll include essays, novels, epics, so-called “fragments,” and lyrics and poetry. 

The lyrics and poetry is where the sheer luck enters in.  For many years all I had to do is say, “I have written a poem,” and there would be a mad rush towards the exits by all who knew me.  More recently I’ve had better responses.  (I don’t think I’ve changed, but rather that fashions have changed.)  However the sheer luck will involve translating my poems into various Asian languages, using the automatic translation devises now available.

Those Asian nations have huge populations, and all I need to do is have a single poem go viral, and then sell e-books of poems for ten cents a copy,   and I might just sell a billion copies, and make $100,000,000.00.  Single handedly I’ll be doing more to reverse the trade deficit than most of those clowns in Washington.

The cool thing about poetry is that you don’t have to finish anything. In fact lots of poems end in the middle.

Another cool thing is that, while those translation devises butcher prose, they actually improve most poetry. Therefore just because my poem is horrible in English is no guarantee it won’t be lovely and profound when translated into Chinese.

And there’s a billion people in China. I’ll be rich!

And you can tell people you were there at the beginning.

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