One More Writer

You know those moments where your brain starts narrating a story in your head, typing words into your skull? Like last week, rebuilding the backyard fence with my dad, working with hammer and nail, muddy boots slogging through fresh dirt. Lightning flaring overhead, with an odd patch of clear sky to the west. There was hail. Lots of it, coming down in an angry stream. Above us, the line of fir trees giving some shelter from the hail. Finally a use for those trees, trees which had given us nothing but grief as we tried to burrow through root structures and set fence posts a week earlier.

I don't know how to write stuff like this. And so I leave it unsaid, until it builds up and I have to jot it down on my weblog.

That desire to write has been festering in me for a while now. It looks like I'll be getting a chance to put it to work in the near future. Tuesday, I fly down to Hollister, California, home of the Hollister Free Lance. The week after, I fly to Bentonville, Arkansas, to visit with the people of the Benton County Daily Record. I don't know which paper will hire me, or which paper I'll be accepting a job from if both of them want my byline.

Assuming all goes well, it looks like I'll be making a move in early May. Which is good, because fence building projects aren't bad part-time work, but they aren't quite as interesting as a riveting city council meeting or a story on utility tax increases.