"Better Late Than Never," or "I Got the Blogger Blues"

Steve has been hounding me for a week to post this, and rather than having him rabidly breathing down my neck for another &%$#-ing minute, I thought I'd add this now and pacify that rat bastard.

I'm kidding, of course.

Steve's parents are not rodents, and they were married when he was conceived.

But back to the blog.

Having never before written a blog, I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. A testament to this fact is the long string of e-mails between me and Steve, outlining my vain attempts to get onto this damn board so I can post. Steve's patience must be endless, as I was about as successful in logging in as George Bush is in pronouncing the word "nuclear"... or the word "the," for that matter.

Last week's meeting of the Coffee Crew -- the first, in fact -- though not well-attended, was certainly well-received. As an example of rousing the troops, it... well, it tanked, actually. But as an example of fortitude in the face of adversity, it showed that... er... uh... okay, it showed that Steve, Sue and I like to hear ourselves talk, and that we don't care if anyone else shows up to hear us.

And it was damn fun. Good pizza, good cookies, good conversation, good sex.

Tonight, it's time for Round 2. As of last week, the list of attendees was to include me, Steve, Sue, Linda, Mike, Cheryl, Joe and Tithi, with Diana and Paul on the list of "perpetual maybes". As of 1:45 p.m., Cheryl and Mike have had to cancel, Joe, Tithi and Linda are nowhere to be found, Diana and Paul are busy, and I'm already having a sense of deja vu about how things are ultimately going to turn out.

If I said I wasn't disappointed, I'd be lying. I am.

But at the same time, I completely understand why this is happening. Having a writer's group among friends is a great idea, and I'm as enthusiastic about it as Steve and Sue are, and, I suspect, as everyone else who said they'd attend are. The problem is that all too often, Real Life rears its ugly head, convincing us that there never seems to be enough time to do the things we want to do once we find 'em. (Sorry -- I seem to be channeling Jim Croce all of a sudden.)

Steve and I discussed this at length last night, and though we have rather different opinions as to how viable that explanation is (read "viable" for me and "excuse" for Steve), I do see his point. So often in life, we make time to do the things we DON'T want to do. We clean our toilets. We go to the dentist's office to have cavities drilled. We mow our lawns. We visit relatives we don't really want to see. We watch Saved By the Bell: The New Class.

We do these things not because we want to, but because we must, and no matter what is in our schedules, we find the time to fit those things in. The dilemma, and the irony, of this group is that it's something we all agree we'd love to fit into our schedules. Hearing what others have written and sharing our own writing is far more interesting than having a tooth drilled, or mowing a lawn, or cleaning a toilet or visiting an 80-year-old aunt whose house always smells of tuna and Preparation H.

I still have hope that in time, people will start coming to the writer's nights. Maybe we need to change the night, or maybe we need to invite more people. I don't know either way, though I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually. This much is true -- it's definitely worthwhile. Steve's recall of his younger days is hilarious in a definite Kevin Arnold sort of way... Sue's got some great ideas for her novel and I hope some day to be able to read it... and I got the chance to find out what it's like to read my writing to a group of adults.

It's kind of freaky, really.

But fun.

In a freaky sense.

I just need some more practice... and hopefully a larger audience.