Guest Blog: She's MIA. You'll have to do with me.

This is a test of the emergency guest blog system. This is only a test. Should this have been an actual emergency, you would have had better things to be doing than reading this. This is only a test.
- - -
Yesterday, on the Internet Writing Workshop, someone sent me, and other great thinkers and writers, a link (no longer working) to an article titled:  Is Writing an Art or a Craft?  After Googling the topic to do research, I received 200,000,000 hits (seriously). On the IWW, I decided to answer thusly.
- - -
(Y'all need to read this with a southern accent in your head even though I'm originally from New Jersey.)

You can't spell craft without "a"..."r"..."t".

We're splitting definitional hairs, and I'm too busy crafting my next novel into a work of art so future generations can shell out big bucks for a first edition of my literary masterpiece.



Art is in the eye of the beholder. Some paintings, pictures, and books are pieces of dog do-do that don't resonate with anyone but the plumber, unplugging the toilet after those items are flushed. Some paintings, pictures, and books can take a person's breath away or change their lives. You want to call me a craftsman or artist or writer or novelist or author, go ahead...it's all good. It's even better if you call me one of those fancy names while leaving me a 5-star review on Amazon, paying $13.99 for the paperback of One Promise Too Many because that's my biggest profit margin, and posting on Facebook (after you change your password) that Rick Bylina is a genius and his writings changed my life. But don't call me a bum. Only my mother-in-law can do that with impunity.

Notice, you can't spell masterpiece without "a"..."r"..."t" either.

The beaver family down the creek from me built a dam where the farmer and his contractor failed to do so twice over the past 20 years. The beaver's damn dam is masterpiece of engineering that withstood the illegal attempt by the farmer to dynamite it. Farmer's dead now. Explosives accident, I hear tell. But he has the watering hole he wanted all along thanks to the beaver's craft and resultant work of art. Of the farmer, well, as Leslie Winkle would say, "Dumb ass."

I am that I am: a scribbler of words. Had I been an actual writing genius, I would have probably written something prophetic by now. No, I'm just a Joe who enjoys words, tells some good stories, understands the craft but can't always execute it without a cheat sheet. A Joe, who has problems with the details, spelling, and micro-hairsplitting grammar concepts. Nevertheless, I keep working at it. Genius is state to strive for. Keep trying and maybe no one will notice that you didn't make it to that state, but your art did.

Notice agin (sic), you can't spell author without "a"..."r"..."t" either. Webster works in mysterious ways.

P.S. God spelled backwards is dog. Mind-blowing.

- - -

This has been a test of the emergency guest blog system. Should this have been an actual emergency, we'd all be looking for someone with whom we could spending eternity blogging. This was only a test.