This is the post where I lay out the best things I wrote this year. Maybe, in a year like this when my productivity was lower, it might include everything I wrote. We’ll never know (don’t check).
“For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, ‘It might have been.’”
— John Greenleaf Whittier
It was always just a dream.
I used to be a bit of a beer snob, but even at my height I was never the snobbiest nor the most knowledgeable person around. I don’t brew my own beer. I don’t spend all of my money searching for that one special beer. And I don’t study the intricacies of it. It was mo re enjoyment than obsession.
But I do love a good beer and I know a decent amount about it, to the point that I know what I like and can have reasonably intelligent conversations about it, back when we used to gather around a table and have conversations.
I’m not a journaler by nature.
Yes, I have written down my innermost thoughts on occasion, but generally I jot down short quick notes on almost everything that pops into my brain that I then compile to use later for writing that I will publish, either here or in my newsletter.
Yet I felt that living through a time when a viral droplet infection — a silent, invisible killer — raced across the globe and was documented in real time was as good an occasion as any to keep a daily record of my thoughts.
What genre of films do the Coen brothers make?
My May 2019 newsletter includes tidbits about some the NBA, some podcasts, and, of course, books.
Each month, I send a newsletter that is a collection of all new random thoughts and scribblings on a variety of subjects, including some things I enjoyed that month – books, TV shows, films, sports, articles, whatever, as well as quick reviews of books I read. It’s free and it goes right to your inbox!
This month will mark the seventh anniversary of the release of my first — and still highest-selling — book.
It was a niche book and it made some minor waves in that space, to the point where it even climbed all the way to #2 in that category on Amazon. It didn’t stay there long, however, and my name never cracked the “Wealthiest Writers” listicles.
It never will.
I began playing organized basketball at the age of six.
By the age of ten, I was playing year-round for various travel teams in various leagues, almost always in the age bracket above mine. There was never an offseason. Camps, practices, summer leagues, fall leagues, spring leagues, open gyms – I did it all. When state rules prevented us from holding official practices, we all met at our point guard’s home and conducted practices on the full court in his backyard.
Basketball was an everyday thing.
Another whirlwind year.