A sad announcement from me today. It’s got me all philosophical and remembering.
I joined the Word Wenches a decade ago. They’ve been most excellent years. I’ve been productive in my writing, found a sympathetic niche for my blog posts, got to know the readers who gather here, and been supported all this time by the fellowship of Wenches.
It’s been great fun.
Writing is a solitary business. It’s many hours of sitting at a desk, staring at the wall and, from time to time, typing madly, muttering to yourself. When you’re a writer you know precisely where the guillotine stood in La Place de la Revolution. You can ask the mailman, “If she murders somebody and he deserves it, does she have to regret it?” and he backs away quietly.
Our writing buddies understand this and sympathize. We keep each other sane. Thank you, Word Wenches. Sanity is good.
Now I get to the meat of the matter.
These last couple years I haven’t got much written. The old brain doesn’t work as well as it once did. The creaky body no longer stands up to the physical and emotional demands of the writing job.
It’s time for me to retire and put my feet up and let the dog and cat climb into my lap and keep me warm. I have a decade of TV shows to catch up on. I started knitting a scarf for my sister a couple of years ago. I may finally get it finished.
So I’m bowing out of the Word Wenches, with regret and gratitude, filled with good wishes for everybody.
Jo