By Lyle Fitzsimmons - An Open Letter to My Readers:
Sometimes, as I tell my wife when I’m finishing up an article… it feels good off the hands.
The salient points come to mind quickly. The supporting phrases are easily built. And by the time the piece is done, it feels as if barely an effort has been made to reach a prescribed word count.
Those are the days when this job is just about the best thing in the world.
And then there are other days.
When the ideas don’t come. When the logistics aren’t right. And when every single word – let alone phrases, sentences or paragraphs – feels roughly akin to pushing the family car uphill in the rain.
Those are the days when I tell myself that factory work wouldn’t be so bad.
Not surprisingly, the readers on those days tend to endorse my alternate employment as well.
Upon review, I can’t argue that the intro to last week’s piece was representative of the latter scenario, not the former.
In my rush to punctuate an argument that Arturo Gatti is a flawed inductee to the hall of fame in Canastota – a viewpoint I feel no shame in having, by the way – my selection of words, phrases and sentences were beneath the standard I’d like to believe I’ve set for myself as both a writer and a person. [Click Here To Read More]
Sometimes, as I tell my wife when I’m finishing up an article… it feels good off the hands.
The salient points come to mind quickly. The supporting phrases are easily built. And by the time the piece is done, it feels as if barely an effort has been made to reach a prescribed word count.
Those are the days when this job is just about the best thing in the world.
And then there are other days.
When the ideas don’t come. When the logistics aren’t right. And when every single word – let alone phrases, sentences or paragraphs – feels roughly akin to pushing the family car uphill in the rain.
Those are the days when I tell myself that factory work wouldn’t be so bad.
Not surprisingly, the readers on those days tend to endorse my alternate employment as well.
Upon review, I can’t argue that the intro to last week’s piece was representative of the latter scenario, not the former.
In my rush to punctuate an argument that Arturo Gatti is a flawed inductee to the hall of fame in Canastota – a viewpoint I feel no shame in having, by the way – my selection of words, phrases and sentences were beneath the standard I’d like to believe I’ve set for myself as both a writer and a person. [Click Here To Read More]
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