In a dozen different parallel universes, this blog started in a dozen different ways. In one, maybe something from the files of Zelda, Attack Cat Extraordinaire. In another, contrasting tales of babies in cans, both the paint and trash varieties. Cans, I mean, not babies. Babies are precious.
Except maybe the xenomorph variety. But that could be just me.
In yet another, maybe a little something about the first time I had a fresh-baked scone. A proper English one. Soft, moist, warm. A distinctly unhealthy dollop of cream slathered on top. Strains from the university music students, busking for spare change around the corner.
Or maybe debating the merits of using “siphon” as opposed to “suck”, particularly in the context of eating curried lamb bones.
In more than a dozen others, I’ve thrown up my hands in despair and given up on the whole darn enterprise. Last I checked, there are over 100 million blogs out there. Who needs another?
I suspect the hardest part about beginnings lies in deciding to begin. And after that? The universe provides. Or multiverse, if you prefer. The point is that I have begun. In this particular universe, I began with a sample of the things sleeting through my mind. And my writing, of course. At unannounced, random points, I shall probably, maybe, possibly, blog about my writing.
I am notoriously shy about my writing.
Beginnings are hard.