I started this on the train just because 🥲 pic.twitter.com/iZJ804yjLs
— Darling Mikki (@OkSoMik) November 10, 2022
Through absolutely no planning of my own, the topic of today’s post is a perfect case in point to what I wrote last time when considering the future of this blog. Specifically, the point I made in favour of maintaining some semblance of it indefinitely:
The blog Slab defines the ‘Delete’ quadrant of the Eisenhower Decision Matrix as “Tasks that distract you from your preferred course, and don’t add any measurable value.”
I’ve had it for 10 years now, an anniversary from back in February that I completely missed. Still, I remember exactly where I was—both literally (geographically) and figuratively (as a writer)—when I started this site.
In part this has been to improve my novel’s wordcount.
Originally, this was due to my not understanding them as an artform. I knew they were collages of evocative photos that represents one’s story, and that they’re a common way for writers to discuss and promote their work on social media, particularly Twitter.
Chatting is equally applicable to friends and strangers, and is customarily performed in a relaxed and leisurely manner.
But almost all of this changes when it comes to a Twitter chat, and you are one of the chat hosts.
Me with Texas writer Sydney Young (L) and 2018 PitchWars mentor Carrie Callaghan (R) at the 2019 Historical Novel Society writers’ conference
So it was with #HFChitChat—the idea of a recurring Twitter chat and online community for writers of historical fiction.
Or maybe one’s birthday is an ideal time to reflect upon the natural ending of things, as well as the things you want to accomplish before your own end time, and more importantly, the barriers, both real and imaginary, that stand in your way.
Like many people, I’m sure, I have a love-hate relationship with social media.
Because I don’t own a TV, I attempted to stream the coverage on my laptop. Yet, because so many North Americans and people from around the world were also watching, the stream timed out every minute or so, in need of constant refreshing.
It was in this way, along with commentary from a battery-operated radio and the #ElectionNight hashtag on Twitter, that the end result eventually – astoundingly, at least to me – became clear.
For all that that’s actually six words.
New Year’s is my favourite time of the year. I love new beginnings and the opportunity to forecast what shape the coming year will take by setting goals to help chart its course and advancement.
Given this, I’m no stranger to New Year’s resolutions. I even have a fairly decent record of achieving them.
A Frame Around Infinity 