by Waldorfia Tomosky
Saturday (All Day)
I was surprised tht he knew so much about my writing.
“How would you know about my writing?” I asked.
He responded “I was impressed with your application cover letter and the portfolio of your opinion pieces from high school. Even though I was impressed with that it would have been foolish if I had based my decision based on such a small sample. I have to admit that I did a little detective work and looked for anything else you had written; whether in high school or college. Some of your graduate research papers were not only brilliant but elegant. I could not put down your thesis.”
“I could not find a poorly written item in all of it. In fact I found your writing quite creative and exciting; even the ones about autoclaves and beakers. You seem to really love your work no matter what you are doing.”
I was speechless and I said so. “You give me too much credit. I am at a loss for words.”
“You never seem to be at a loss for words when you write” he offered.
“What exactly do you want me to do? When would you like me to start?” I answered enthusiastically; probably a little too soon. He had not even mentioned a salary yet.
“Let’s start right now” he said. “I have an idea of what I want my blog to bloggers to say. I know what I want them to take away after reading it. The problem is I just don’t know how to say it. I know how to blog but I don’t know how to generate enthusiasm about it.”
“Why don’t we work on it together then?” I asked.
Something – – – I don’t know what – – – happened to my mind at that very moment.
“Have you ever been blogged before?” he asked.
“No, why would anyone want to blog me?” I answered with a question.
“You appear to be a desirable blog” he offered.
“OK then. Let’s make a deal” I countered. “We can blog each other.”
We wrote, we crossed out, we created files and deleted files; we took a break, we had a drink, we lost track of time and agreed to spend our whole weekend blogging.