Way back when, like the first years of Ten Mile, I would have to spend Sundays apologizing for the errors involved in the blog during the previous week. That was courtesy of a reader that really read the blog and knew or questioned the stories I published.
Of course, I got tired of it. Silly you. However, it was good practice. Things have gone fairly well since the reader has moved along – although his absence has deprived me of a friend. Well, that’s a questionable statement as events unfolded.
Saturdays were the day I’d receive the email detailing the errors of my ways and I’d dread the appearance of the same; re-hashing the events scribed on Sunday and then creating the Sunday corrections post.
This Saturday I woke, when opening the past file folder, to the fact I’ve lost track of the previously published story series. Having started without a system, just posting without rhyme (the reason is obvious, I needed a day away from home and a post), I would grab a story, stick it in the white board and key the post and carry-on my life.
It is Saturday. I haven’t a clue as to which stories I’ve published here and I haven’t bothered to write a new one especially for the Saturday offering. Therefore, I find myself offering a Saturday Apology.
Not to be gain said, I will, rather than write a story, begin the New Year – next week – with a Saturday offering. No more previously published stories.
Having said that, I’m now contemplating a very bad year. You realize do you not, that forces me into a commitment for fifty stories next year. Even Mark Twain didn’t do that. Even most writers won’t do that.
In case your wondering since when has the year devolved to fifty weeks from fifty two. Well, simple. The promise of Saturday stories constitutes a New Years resolution.
And those, for sure, are made to be broken.
See you all next year. Have a good transition.
From the reaches,