In the Northern Hemisphere (where I live) the Summer Solstice begins tomorrow–for me, at 1:16 P.M. CDT. I’ll hold off celebrating until next Saturday, when you’ll find me at Madison’s own goofy Parade of Species.
Summer… the time when we let ourselves be a little lazy, either in a good way or by lapsing into that borderline depression we call the doldrums. Perhaps the writing projects we began with enthusiasm as winter set in last year, or powered forward on the steam of a New Years Resolution, are coasting to a halt. It’s easy to let introspective acts like writing slip as all the extroverted acts of Summer demand our attention.
Why am I musing on this? Because the flow of guest authors toward “True Stories Well Told” has become a little sluggish. I grow weary of flapping my own gums, figuratively speaking, publishing my own memoirs here essay by essay. I need some company on these virtual pages!
Like the Parade of Species, I’d like this blog to be a parade of many species of story, not just my own. If you’re for biodiversity, “throw me sumpin, mister” as they say down in New Orleans when the parades go by. Read the guidelines, but don’t think too hard. Just let me publish your true stories, well told.